Staying in Love–A Valentine Porch Party

With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, I decided to interview my husband of 37 years. I wanted to find out how he felt about one of my favorite days of the year.

The Day of Love. 

What better time to talk than during a porch partyEvery morning we get up with the roosters, drink coffee, read Jesus Calling, and pray.

Friday afternoon, I set the stage.

I spruced up the table with ivy, fluffed our red blankets, and put out a new candle.

I made a cake and bought  heart-shaped candy.

I chose a valentine card for him covered in conversation hearts. 

Saturday morning.


I sipped my coffee and carefully posed my question.

“When you were a little boy, didn’t you just love Valentine’s Day?”

He didn’t say a word.

Maybe he didn’t understand the question. 

“After school, I hurried home and dumped out the cards in my Valentine box on my bed.”

No comment.

“I analyzed each one very carefully. I could tell if the sender really liked me by the words on the card. And I loved choosing just the right card for my friends. Didn’t you do that?”

“No. I threw away all the cards that said ‘Be mine’ or ‘I love you’.”

“You never tried to figure out which girls liked you by their cards?”

“No. Never.”

You are the strangest person I’ve ever met.

“Okay. Forget the cards. How did you feel about Valentine’s Day?”

“I hated it. All the pink and white lacy stuff.”

I can’t believe it. 

My husband hates Valentine’s Day. 

Poor Charlie Brown. I could identify with him. If you can’t see the video, click here.

I had one more question, but I was afraid I knew the answer.

“Do you still hate it…now that you’re grown?”

He looked at me and sorta smiled. “Nah. It’s not too bad anymore. I have fun picking out those big, tacky cards for you.” Reaching into the pink dish, he chose a chocolate covered heart.

Then he opened it and handed it to me. 

It was just as good as if he’d said–




Staying in love means you give your heart away–over and over. Click to Tweet.

How do you feel about Valentine’s Day?

Did you look forward to it as a child? Did you analyze your cards like I did?

Any memories or thoughts you want to share?








Real Love and a Nine Dollar Wedding Ring

It probably shouldn’t have been a big deal to me. But it was. After our honeymoon, my husband stopped wearing his wedding ring.

He’s a mechanic and has explained so many times.

“If I held a wrench and touched a battery post, I could lose my finger.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him. It just sorta made me sad. I’d worn my wedding band every day since we married.

A couple of months ago, our daughter told me about a silicone ring for people who work with their hands.

“Think your dad would wear one?”

“They’re only $9. Can’t hurt to try.”

After 36 years of marriage, I ordered my husband a new wedding ring from

Was I being silly to care so much? 

Would he wear a black, rubber-looking ring?

A few days later, his ring arrived.

The big moment…

After supper, he sat in his recliner. I hid the ring inside my clammy palm. My heart fluttered like we were teenagers. “I bought you a little surprise.”

Does he love me enough to wear a nine dollar ring? That’s the real question.

I gave it to him.

He put it on his finger.

“Will you wear it?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Really? Wow!”

I could’ve talked all night , but I could tell–he didn’t have anything else to say about it.

This past Sunday at our porch party

“I just love your new ring. How do you feel about it?”

He looked at me like I was speaking Pig Latin.

“How do I feel about it?”

“Yeah, I mean–”

“It’s like brushing my teeth and putting on my underwear. I don’t have feelings about it.”

Well, I do.

We both laughed.

You love me enough to wear a nine dollar ring. Because it matters to me.

That’s the stuff real love is made of.

And it only took me 36 years to figure it out. 🙂

What have you learned about real love? It’s not exactly what we thought, is it? 





A Romantic Day At The Beach–After All These Years!

Last week, my husband and I were sitting on the beach when I spotted a family walking toward us. “Look,” I whispered. “They have two girls and a boy, just like us.”


“Remember when that was us a few years ago?”


“We can’t both spy on them. Look at me. Pretend we’re talking.”

“We are talking,” Rick said.

Now they were only a few feet away.

Peeking from behind my sunglasses, I watched the daddy drag a cart filled with chairs, a cooler, sand toys, a Pack ‘n Play, an E-Z Up shelter, and a camping tent across the hot sand. The mother pushed a stroller loaded with the baby and even more supplies.


The mom and dad were smiling and chit-chatting, despite their loads. Pretty soon, they had the tent up.



Transfixed, I kept watching. Remembering. “Back when we were doing all that stuff, it seemed like such a ….”


“Yeah. Soon as we got everything set up, we had to take it all down to go inside for lunch. Or for one of them to take a nap. Or to change a poopie diaper.”

But still, something about this family and their joy in the mundane captured my heart.

We didn’t realize how sweet life was back then. “We don’t want to go back in time, do we?” I said, feeling a bit melancholy. “Do it all over again?”

“Nah. The little boy just tracked sand on their towels.”

My gaze left the family and followed the shade of our own tent, to my husband of 34 years.

I think he knew I was staring at him.

He gently touched my foot with his.

Something shifted in my heart. I studied the diamonds dazzling across the ocean.

Perfectly content. Smiling.

Ever had one of those wow-moments?

When you realize what you have under your own tent is pretty wonderful?