Remember Love

I walked into the grocery store a few weeks ago and almost walked right back out at the sight that greeted me.

I've never been a fan of Valentine's Day (shocking, coming from a woman). Maybe it's because I never really had a reason to celebrate it before. Maybe because I don't know why we celebrate it. Maybe it's because my tomboy childhood friend taught me that the color pink is an evil gremlin-lord that requires mud-domination. No matter the reason, I almost always forget about Valentine's Day until I'm backhanded by the pink chocolates, stickers, cards, balloons, and....owls?

Seriously...would you want a pink owl planter? The Valentine designers are growing desperate.

Take a moment and think about the men on Valentine's Day. Firstly, pink is not a "man's color". In desperation (partially thanks to Valentine's Day), men have been forced to accept pink into their wardrobe and wear it proudly (or at least fake pride and confidence). Not only that, but look at Valentine's Day commercials--jewelry, flowers, chocolate....this is clearly not a holiday (for lack of a better word) for men. It should be a holiday for both guy and girl, but the girls got a bit greedy somewhere down the line.

Think about it. Do men stress about this holiday?
Yes.
Why? Because they're forced to be creative, to dig through their bank accounts, and to balance multiple expectations on their shoulders. There's pressure and that's not nice.
Does a woman stress about this holiday?
I doubt it (I clearly don't).
Why? Because she's sitting, waiting for the guy to "surprise" her (as if she doesn't know something's coming). If he doesn't, she's disappointed...which leads to strife.

I speak of all this in broad terms. I know there are wonderful girls out there who shower the guys with pink-less, manly gifts. There are guys who don't feel pressured. There are couples who love the celebration (and each other). They ought to teach classes.

But why do we celebrate Valentine's Day? How did it start? Naturally, I leap to the endless electronic archives and dig with my dot-com shovel. Valentine's Day celebrates the martyrdom of three different men with different variations of the name Valentine. They died at different times. They lived different lives. And that's all we know. That is the basis of our knowledge, the cornerstone of the pink gremlin-lord. After that, come only myth and legend. There must have been love in there somewhere. Maybe even the color pink.

Something deep inside me wishes the truth lay within grasp--the real truth. Three men died for their faith. Their faith. That is the only fact we carry and we celebrate it with chocolate and flowers. But do we really? Do we honor these men? Does anyone even think of them on Valentine's Day anymore? Do we see postcards with stories of their deaths?
I would love to know their stories. There is depth there. So much depth. Think of what it means to be a martyr.

"Somebody who suffers persecution and death for refusing to renounce a belief or cause, usually religious."

"One who makes great sacrifices or suffers much in order to further a belief, cause, or principle."

Imagine if you stood on the brink of martyrdom.
You have a choice--renounce your faith and beliefs or die in whatever way your persecutor decides. How do you feel at this moment? Brave? Strong? Terrified? Calm? It's the pinnacle of your life and you can only hope, with one shaky breath, that someone somewhere will understand how important this moment is for you. You want everyone to know why you are going to die--because you have faith. Because you believe it's right. Because you trust in God.
But will anyone ever know? Could they understand the internal struggle and external fear that hold you frozen at this moment? Or will they laugh and draw pink chalk hearts on the sidewalk, practically forgetting your name?

This Valentine's Day, let's spare a sober thought among the many joyful ones and remember, not just these three Valentine martyrs, but martyrs around the world, around our Earth's time-line. Even if we don't know their stories. Think of their tense, quickened heartbeats as they give themselves up for what they trust and love--God, faith, friends.

That is a love we often don't celebrate.

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