black dress, white socks, and Purim

Ah, Valentine's Day weekend ... I remember when ... I thought I'd be rebellious and "cool" and wear all black in protest against the red and pinkclad damsels-in-distress who paraded around campus.  Admitedly I was only playing the part of the lemming and I could never really get into the whole bitter "i-hate-men" act ... but hey, all my friends were doing it ... so not to be left out, I reached into my closet and dusted off my black dress.

But that was then ...

Sure, upon occasion I let myself wonder if there wasn't something wrong with me.  Why am I content being single?  Why do I not long like every other girl for that certain call at 9 pm, the little notes, the walks in between classes, and the church date?  I even dabbled once or twice in wallowing in self-inflicted pity, thinking that perhaps if I mourned not having a "special friend" on Valentine's Day I'd feel more normal and be able to relate to my love-crazed roomates.  But deep down inside ... eh, I had no complaints.  I had great girl friends who were the constants in my life ... plenty of guy pals who kept me amused by sporting their white socks and darkslacks (hmph, art majors of all people should know better) ... and ...

... the annual bouquet of roses.

"Oh, christine got flowers!  ... Who are they from?"

"Read the card."

"'From: the man who loves you most in the whole world' ... Ah!  They're from your dad, aren't they?"

What was I thinking?!! ... Even complete strangers knew that there was no way that I could have a secret lover back in Argentina.

Thank you, Daddy, for all the lovely flowers over the past 2 and 1/3 decades.  Your thoughtfulness, and unfailing, unconditional love are more than I could ever dream of.  Because of you, I have an amazing picture of my own Heavenly Father.

So what is Valentine's like for me now?  Ha! I had a blast this weekend.  At work Friday night, I felt adrenaline rushing through my veins as I booked a dinner reservation for Saturday night in a city where all resteraunts were booked solid.  I even calmed the frantic souls of my two guests with my soothing, reassuring voice.  And then later, I enjoyed the fellowship of my single comrads at my pastor's house.

Saturday, felt like a flashback to PCC days helping my roommates do their hair and makeup as they got ready to meet their Fine Arts dates ... but instead of one of three roommates, I did Rebekah's hair and makeup and instead of the mandatory attendance concert, Rebekah and John were going to a dance with a room full of old doctors.  Sigh.  Wasn't I glad I was going downtown to drink tea with a friend and then see the funniest movie I've seen since ... well ... Napoleon Dynamite!!!

Monday at the inn, a couple who spontaneously decided to get married that day walked in and asked if we had a room available for them.  Later, I sat at the front desk admiring all the lovebirds leave the inn and go out to dinner.  Ah, didn't little Mr. Rumery look dashing in his Naval Officer uniform!!!

"Good night, Christine.  Happy Valentine's Day!"

And then it hit me like someone slapping me on my proverbial sunburned back.  It was Valentine's Day.  sigh ... if only ...

But what was I thinking ... why was I envious? ... that would be like me being upset on Purim that I'm not Jewish!  This holiday isn't for me!  Not yet anyway.

L'chai-im (to life!!!)