Day 11...The Irony of holidays

Valentines Day.  Mmm.. Chocolates (the older I get, the more I delight!)  Love movies, Love songs.  Cards with deepest declarations of love.  Daters at moonlit tables.  The fragrance of roses filling every grocery store, every pharmacy, every everywhere.  Red and Pink dominate the world.  Should be lovely. Should be love and laughter-filled, right?  Holiday irony, I call it.  Somehow, when the stakes are raised, everything comes crashing (stakes=expectations).  Nothing against your daddy.  The night before Valentines he came home with a card, dark chocolate and a bottle of Merlot.  A heavenly evening, enjoying each other’s company, watching a cheesy tv movie “Pizza My Heart” (no pun intended J), in love and laughing the night away.  The actual day of valentines comes, a little anti-climatic.  I try not to have any expectations.  He tells me he’s taken me out, and will I be his valentine?  (this a week earlier)  Ah, so sweet.  He’s planned something special for me!  Yeah!  I’m excited.  So the actual day comes.  And without going into the details (trust me, you don’t need those at this point)…the date is a flop.  We decide it’s not in our best interest to go out to the restaurant he had picked out for us.  I say it’s okay.  And you know what?  We decided to take you along and alter our course, have a little family fun, centering on our "little sweetheart."  You’re so happy today, this Valentines Day.  We made homemade cookies and cards for the grandparents.  You’re loving life.  High on candy and frosting. :)  Something inside pressed us both...we needed your spirit with us to carry us through tonight.  Tempted to be down about finances, about our current situation, I think we saw in you a place where we longed to be.  So after a trip to Stevie B’s, and just hanging out, we had a special evening just the three of us.  I’d say “we survived,” but I don’t want to take away from it.  It's always a special occasion with you and Daddy, Dear.    When the night was over, and I got home, all I wanted to do was crash on the bed and shut my eyes to the day.  Of course I couldn’t; you needed me desperately for the cuddling and the tucking.  That I did.  But I’m still ready for this day to be over.  For new mercies that come in the morning.  And that’s okay.  Sometimes that’s just the way life goes.  We all have expectations.  Maybe one day I’ll like holidays.  For now, I like the anticipation, and I like the memories (when good ones have been made).  But on the actual holy days, there’s always this bitter haze that clouds the moment for me.  I’m a sucker for average days that somehow carry the magic.  It’s when there’s this heightened sense of planning and staging that makes me uneasy.  And it’s not that I don’t go with it, I do.  And most of the time it’s tolerable, even fun.  But to me, there’s more to behold in the ruddy, every day life. It’s there I feel the tiny blessings collecting into the beautiful God-given life..