The King and Queen of Valentines

HEART W. GOLD ARROW

I’ve shared this true story previously on my blog. However, since it is, without a doubt, the quintessential love story, I believe it has a right to be repeated as we celebrate this year’s Valentine’s Day. It takes a look at two of the world’s greatest lovers who have much to teach us about loving and communicating that love generously.

First, let me lay just a little foundation from the most important book ever written. God’s Word says all of the Ten Commandments of Jehovah are fulfilled in living our lives in genuine love. It also says that fear is cast out of our hearts and our lives by love. And, most important of all, it tells us repeatedly that the God we serve is Love. He’s what it’s all about, and He’s the source of all genuine love. But when the Word talks about love, it’s referring to much more than just an emotion. Certainly, the emotion is important – and extremely satisfying. But the love that really makes a difference in this world is love that does something.

Love, according to the original language of the scriptures, is the fulfilling of a duty or a responsibility to another – whether to God or to the people in our lives. It works good toward another person whether it ‘feels’ something or not. The truth is that feelings of love – like feelings of anger, happiness, hurt, etc. – come and go. But the act of loving another person is fueled by that deliberate intent of the will to do them good. Like faith, real love is more of an action verb than a noun.

I’m grateful that in my life I have known a great many people who love in this active way. But every time I ponder the subject of love – and especially around Valentine’s Day, when people are prone to send little ‘love letters’ to each other in the way of commercial Valentine cards – my mind turns to two particular lovers of the past who knew and experienced the power of love to change people’s lives completely.

Poets Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning lived one of the most powerful and life-changing love stories ever experienced by human beings. Much of their poetry, especially Sonnets from the Portuguese, describes that love and the power it had to overcome enormous obstacles, and to vanquish debilitating sorrow and hovering death. While the best remembered and most often quoted lines from all of those sonnets are the words, “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,” the truth is that some of the most riveting portions are Elizabeth’s descriptions of how that love destroyed death and renewed her life. In “Sonnet VII” she says this:

The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul
Move still, oh, still, beside me as they stole
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink
Was caught up into love and taught the whole
Of life in a new rhythm . . . .”

In truth, it was that love that literally saved Elizabeth’s life. She had been plagued for many years by physical illness and an expected early death, and, although in her late 30’s, was kept almost a prisoner under her domineering father’s control. But Robert’s love encouraged her to believe for renewed health and to escape from the control of her father. That courageous action led them to many happy years of marriage and fruitful writing that blessed the world for generations. It also gave them a son, whom they loved dearly.

But something many people do not know is that prior to their marriage, Elizabeth and Robert courted primarily by letter, for a period of 20 months. During that 20 months, they exchanged a total of 574 love letters. Think of it: 574 love letters! In 20 months, that is an average of more than 28 letters each month. Never running out of ways to say “I love you,” and never growing tired of expressing that love openly. It’s no wonder I consider them the king and queen of valentines.

And what about you, dear readers? Have you experienced the joy of seeing love give life to those who need it? My Valentine’s wish for each of you this year is that you will experience that reality — whether for the first time or the hundredth.

And, by the way, does the person you love know without a doubt how you feel about him – or her? This time of year offers a great opportunity to make sure. Grab some inspiration from Elizabeth and Robert and make a little extra effort this week to show your love in generous ways.

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Irreverent Valentine Sentiment # 5

HEART BORDER - WITH X'S - smaller

Please Be My Valentine:

I want to be loved by you,
Just you, and nobody else but you.

However, if you’re busy this week,
I’ll call the next guy on my list.

~~~

Irreverent Valentine Sentiment # 3


AMOEBA MAN LOVE SICK - RIPPLED

If it’s true that love makes the world go round (round … round … round …) then I think the best gift I can give my valentine is shares of stock in a company that manufactures motion sickness medicine.

~

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100-Word Challenge for Grownups – Week 119 – Carried on a Song

It’s nice to be able to participate again this week in Julia’s 100-word story challenge. It’s been a while since I got a chance to take part, so I’ve enjoyed this time around, and I hope the rest of you are enjoying coming up with your own stories as well. Here’s my offering:

CARRIED ON A SONG


MUSICAL NOTES & SHADOW - SEPIAI heard the song today. As I walked through Hilliard’s department store, a customer opened a jewelry box, and the melody tinkled across the room. My breath caught in my chest. Tears sprang to my eyes. But my heart smiled. Whenever I hear it, I think of you.

Roger loves me, and our boys are treasures I’d never part with, but my heart still aches for you. Fate may have decreed us bitter enemies in this horrible war between our nations, but as long as I live, my love will seek and find you in the strains of that song.

~~~

To get the scoop on how to participate, visit Julia here:
http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2014/01/27/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week119/#comment-18155

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Irreverent Valentine Sentiment # 2

“Baby, I ain’t askin’ much of you. Just a big-a, big-a hunk of love will do.”  Never sing these words aloud when standing out in the open.

AMOEBA MAN UNDER LOVE WEIGHT

~

Lyrics of “Big Hunk of Love” © Imagem U. S. LLC, A. Schroeder International LLC, Regent Music Corporation

Irreverent Valentine Sentiment # 1

The month of love is almost upon us, and Valentine’s Day is rushing toward us at full speed. The store shelves are heavily laden with enormous boxes of fine chocolates and all manner of stuffed animals holding out decorated hearts. Florists are gearing up for orders of more roses than they get the whole rest of the year. Jewelers’ cases display sparkling hearts in all shapes and sizes, and as for the greeting card business – yep, it’s booming. I enjoy Valentine’s Day well enough, but I’m just not in the mood for all the ooooey-goooey cards and messages yet. So I decided that I’m going to do a series of ‘Irreverent Valentine Sentiments’ this week. It’s my attempt to lead into the holiday with a lighter touch.  Here’s # 1.

WOMAN AT WINDOW - RED

HIDE AND SEEK SIGN

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GUEST POET – Brenda McKeand’s ‘The Summer of Riding Horses’

During the last decade of my life, I was blessed with a friend named Brenda McKeand. She was a talented writer and poet, as well as a very committed nurse. She was also a tremendous encourager, and she was one of my greatest cheerleaders as I made my ventures into authorship.

Brenda is with the Lord now, but she left us her work, which keeps her alive in our midst. Several of the pieces are poems that she collected into a book entitled, The Summer of Riding Horses: About Nursing and Other Things. The “other things” have to do with love of every kind. The individual poem from which she took the title is a love story of the first order. Powerful and touching, it is one of my favorites of all of her work. I’d like to share it with my readers.

For those of you who are familiar with the midwestern U. S. the setting to which she refers will be clear. If you are not familiar, I will tell you that Paducah is the name of a fairly large city on the northern edge of Kentucky. It sits right on the Ohio River, and the whole area is about a two-hour drive south of the town where I live now – and where Brenda lived all the time I knew her. During the last part of the 1800’s and early part of the 1900’s, the whole area was an entryway into the states of Illinois and Indiana when peoples from several nationalities, including Native Americans, came down the river, moving west, looking for a better way of life.

Paducah itself has many wonderful memories for me personally. My mother lived there as a young woman, and she told me stories of being a waitress in the largest hotel in Paducah. She was one of many “girls” who served guests “ham and red-eye gravy” that Brenda describes so colorfully. I agree that the city and the surrounding area provide the perfect setting for her poem.

ONE HORSE IN FENCED FIELDTHE SUMMER OF RIDING HORSES

I met him at the river where Paducah lies,
with its magnolia trees, ham, and red-eye gravy
served by girls with soft southern accents.

He was part Indian, with sun-seasoned skin
and dark pony tail;
All denim and silver, he wore turquoise
around his neck on a black string.

Here, I learned to love horses –
to feel them tremble and shiver,
smelling of leather saddles,
sweat, and hay-scented stables –
and ride down country lanes
with shifting shadow patterns,
and leaves flitting down.

He grew restless in the fall,
making a bow I dared not touch,
as he would no longer touch me.

He drank the black tea,
purifying for the hunt
in the Cherokee tradition –
asking the deer’s permission
to take its life
and mine
to let him go.

~~~
© 2010 Brenda McKeand

 

 

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Charming Gardeners

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”  (Marcel Proust).
Exif JPEG

During the last six months, I lost my father, my closest uncle, and three wonderful friends. During these experiences, I have found myself thinking of several others I’m close to who have also recently gone on from this world to be with the Lord. Each of those people were truly “charming gardeners” in my life. They added so much richness to my life and so much joy that it is impossible to adequately describe the effect of their lives upon mine.

Some of them I saw virtually every day, some every month or two, and a few only a couple times a year. But our love and our relationship was a living, active reality that I was constantly aware of possessing. It’s only natural then, I suppose, that I am still a little overwhelmed, from time to time, at the void I experience just knowing they are not here with me any longer. Just yesterday, I was driving along in my car, and suddenly a new realization of the void each of them has left rose up in me, and I found myself saying, “My life is getting so empty.”

I am thrilled to be able to say that each of those individuals knew the Lord Jesus, and I have no doubts that we will be reunited in Heaven in the future. But the interim – the time of my living out this earthly struggle without them – weighs heavily on me.

Now, I would hasten to add that I do still have a few family members and several other wonderful friends alive and active in my life, and they still add to my joy. So, in truth, my life is not technically “empty.” But it’s still true that the presence of those lost – and the effect of their presence on me – has left an empty place that nothing else, and no one else can fill.

However, I have also realized that this “garden” I call my life still bears the fruit of their influence upon it. They have tilled the soil of my life, and they have enriched it with the nutrients of their love, their grace, and their personal gifts. They have planted seeds of themselves in that garden. And they have indeed caused my soul to “blossom.” So I have the joy of knowing that I will continue to produce those “blossoms.” I will continue to bear the fruit of their plantings in my life, so I still have a very real part of them with me.

I’m so grateful for those “blossoms.” And I count them very dear. I find that I also count more dear than ever before the presence and influence of those who are still a physical part of my life. I find myself wanting to spend more time with those loved ones and to be sweeter and kinder to them than ever before. And I understand more every day that nothing else in this world – no physical wealth, no fame, no prestige or power – can compare in value to the personal relationships we have with the people who love us and depend on our love.

One of the greatest treasures I could wish for those of you reading these words is that you have the blessing of such “charming gardeners” in your own life, that you bear the fruit of their planting, and that you become a “charming gardener” in the lives of all those you have relationship with.

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Friday Fictioneers -11/22/13 — ‘A Dummy’s a Dummy’

I finally got a chance to get back into the game this week and join the fun. Friday Fictioneers 100-word story challenge. Check out the playing rules and join us. My story’s below Sean Fallon’s photo. (Well — maybe that isn’t really Sean — just an acquaintance perhaps.)

Copyright - Sean Fallon
Copyright: Sean Fallon

A DUMMY’S A DUMMY

Hey, wasn’t that hunk who just left your office Warren Flannigan, the actor?”

Uh … yeah. There are no more mannequins available for the store’s holiday window on Main Street, so I’m signing live actors.”

But the guy dumped you last month for that anorexic, bleached blond who can’t spell his name!”

Yeah, I know.”

So why give him a whole month’s free publicity in your window?”

“I knew he’d sign the contract without reading the fine print that said he’d be wearing green tights, pointed rubber ears, a light-up nose, and a jingle-bell cap.”

Wow … way to go, girl!   And, after all, a dummy’s a dummy, right?”

~~~

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Repost: ‘My Dad – A Job Well Done’

Today is a sad day for me. My father passed away. But because he loved the Lord Jesus Christ with all of his heart and has served Him faithfully since he was 12 years old, he went right from our family’s presence into the presence of Jesus.  So although I am sad for me, I must rejoice exceedingly for him.

In honor of his life and his loving care of me, I am re-posting this article about my dad (originally posted on Father’s Day, 2012).  I hope it blesses you, my readers.

 

DAD & MEJust what is a father’s most important job? To love? To provide? To discipline? Certainly all of the above would qualify as part of his job description. But, ultimately, I believe a father’s most important responsibility is to show his children what the Father God is like. That responsibility involves telling his kids about God.

But telling isn’t enough. Kids learn more from what they experience than from what they hear. And when children are told that God is their “Father,” they naturally relate that “Father” to the only other “father” they have experience with – their flesh and blood daddy. I have been inordinately blessed by God’s gift to me of a father who didn’t just talk to me about my Heavenly Father, but who excelled in demonstrating God to me. And although my life of 64 years is full of one experience after another of my dad’s faithfulness to show me God, there are three specific experience that are indelibly embedded in my memory.

The Word tells us that God is a father who enjoys His kids. He enjoyed recreation with Adam and Eve in the Garden; He enjoyed parties when He was on earth in the person of Jesus; He was always instructing Israel to have a party in His presence; and He even says He rejoices over us with singing and dancing. My dad has always been able to get into the spirit of having fun with his kids. When I was very small, he bought me a train that had a real steam engine with sparks and smoke that billowed out as it ran around the track. He delighted in playing trains with me.

But I think the events that stand out most clearly in my memory of a dad who was willing to come down to my level and have fun were the episodes in the grocery stores. My mom, dad, sister, and I always went grocery shopping as a family. That’s often a fun experience for kids, but my sister and I had the privilege of having a dad who wanted to add to our fun. So sometimes, if the store was not crowded, he would roll the shopping cart into a clear aisle, prop one foot on the bottom rung, push off with the other foot, and go flying down the aisle, grinning from ear to ear, all for the sake of bringing squeals of delight to two little girls. I’m sure others thought he was silly, but giving his girls such a treat was worth it to him. Those experiences left us convinced that dads loved to “play” with their kids, and they opened a door between God and me that made me sure I could enjoy Him just like I did my earthly dad.

The Word also tells us that God’s ears are always open to the cries of His children and that He is always present with them in trouble to deliver them. When I was a child, I was plagued by a lot of fears – most of them unnamed and foolish – but there nevertheless. God eventually got control of my life enough to deliver me from all fear, but in early years I often had serious trouble sleeping peacefully. Many nights I woke up sick, but I believe most of it was the result of fear. The cause didn’t matter, however. What mattered was that when I awoke and called for my parents, it was often my dad who immediately heard my cry and came to my side. Certainly my mom was equally loving and attentive, but for some reason my call usually woke my dad first. I have lost count of all the nights he patiently and lovingly gave up sleep to comfort and pray for me.

Once, even as a young adult still living at home, I became ill one night with alarming symptoms. I didn’t call for my parents, but my dad woke and heard me stirring around in the wee hours. He came to check on me and found me sitting in the living room, in the throes of, not only the symptoms themselves, but also the disabling fear brought on by those symptoms. He immediately suggested I make a bed on the living room sofa, gave me two aspirin, sat down in a big chair opposite the sofa, and started talking to me from God’s Word. He spoke God’s truth to me until he had talked me back into faith. He then continued to sit in that chair and promised me that he would sit there and pray until I was back to normal.

Within minutes I was sound asleep. I woke once some time later to see him still sitting in that chair praying. After that night I was totally delivered from that physical problem. But more importantly, my dad’s concrete example made me even more convinced that when my Heavenly Father said He’d be there for me, He’d really be there. I’ve never doubted it once since that night.

The Word also promises us that our Heavenly Father knows our needs and will provide for us liberally. My dad has worked hard ever since I’ve known him. He’s worked hard at earning money, at providing a peaceful and safe environment for our family, at serving the Kingdom of God, and at helping those less fortunate than himself. When growing up, I was aware that we were less than financially prosperous by the world’s standards, but we never felt that we wanted for any necessities. And, somehow, my parents’ efforts and sacrifices managed to provide a few extras as well.

One particular experience of provision during my early college years stands out. I was commuting to school at the time so still living under my dad’s roof. I got up one morning and walked into the kitchen, straight to the bread box, intent on making toast. The box was empty. Now, my dad generally left for work a little before the rest of us woke, and we had only one car at the time, so grocery shopping usually had to wait until he was home. When I saw the bread box empty, I thought, “Oh no! Now what can we do?” I wasn’t anxious to begin my day with a very long walk in the heat to the nearest store. Then suddenly, in the very next second, I thought, “Wait a minute! I know my dad. He would not have gone off with the car for the whole day and left all of us with no bread! I know he had to get us bread!” With that thought I began looking around, and turning to the other end of the kitchen, I saw a brand new loaf of bread in the middle of the table. Dad had been to the store to buy the loaf before he left for work.

That event may seem minor to many people, but at that point, God Himself spoke to my heart and said, “You see: In exactly the same way that you absolutely know without a doubt that your dad would not fail to provide even something as minor as bread, you can also know without a doubt that I will never fail to provide everything you need.” I have thought of this incident many times throughout my life. It has quickened my faith each time. And I have to wonder what my life would have been like if I had not had a dad I could trust so implicitly as my example.

Needless to say, I consider my dad worthy of being named “Father of the Year.” He will always be my winner. And whether he is ever awarded any earthly honors or not, there is an enormous reward awaiting him in Heaven for having exemplified so accurately that Holy Father to whom all creation will eventually bow its knee.

Thank you, Dad!  Happy Father’s Day!

~~~


‘As I Sat on the Bus’ Writing Challenge – Week of 6/30/13 – A Poem

OLD BUS -- WIKIPEDIA - FOR POEM
Photo Courtesy Wikimedia Commons

AS I SAT ON THE BUS THINKING — A POEM

As I sat on the trundling bus,
My love was on my mind:
I thought of him so tall and strong
But not especially kind.

I thought about how cruel his words
When he’s displeased with me;
How perfect he esteems himself,
Yet all my faults can see.

I thought about the gifts I’ve giv’n;
His lack of gifts to me;
I thought how tight he holds the reins:
How I am never free.

And as my journey was quite long,
And thinking time was rich,
I thought how happy I would be
If my love I would ditch!

BLOND ON PHONE - dark sepia
Bye-bye, Love!

~~~

To join the fun of this unique writing challenge, visit Bumba’s blog here.

Friday Fictioneers – 6/28/13 — ‘Racing for a Second Chance’

copyright - Indira
Copyright: Indira: http://amaltaas.wordpress.com/2013/06/28/friday-fictioneers/

RACING FOR A SECOND CHANCE

Lungs burning, gulping breath, she could hardly see.

Keep running: her mantra.

The bus was gaining speed rapidly.

Keep running. Have to catch it! Have to stop him!

Best thing in whole life … How could I …?

But submission to her family’s pride was a life-long habit – nearly impossible to break.

Keep running!

You’re making a fool of yourself.

Keep running!

I AM a fool: I let him go!

Keep —

The bus suddenly screeched to a stop … pulled away again.

Too spent to chase it further, she dropped to her knees, squinting through the exhaust fumes.

He stood there, suitcase in hand.

She had no breath for words, but her eyes said it all.

~~~

I wrote this story for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. But I also wrote the other side of the story — from the guy’s point of view — for the new writing challenge  — AS I SAT ON THE BUS — over at Bumba’s blog.

So if you’d like to read the companion story, click the title here: “As Cody Sat on the Bus”

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