This morning, as we prepared for church service, I was puzzled by my wife's choice of clothing. You see, this morning was our last Sunday at our old church. Next week we will begin attending a church that is some ten miles closer to home. That's not the reason for changing our homebase of worship, but it can't hurt. The real reason for the change is that our son has become the worship director at the new church, and naturally, we are excited when our kids step up and take responsible roles.
So with all the poignancy of intentionally doing something for the last time running amok in the back of my mind, I was puzzled, as I stated earlier, by my wife's choice of a festive, burgundy-red dress. We've been married since before computers, so I knew better than to question her choice of fashion. Since I rarely look better dressed than a hobo, she didn't mention my clothes either.
At church, I noticed many of the ladies dressed in festive reds and more than a few men wore red ties. It seemed like an odd coincidence, but I surmised there must have been some really good sales lately.
It wasn't until we were visiting with everyone after the service that it finally occurred to me that Valentine's Day is this coming Tuesday.
I'm naturally slow on this kind of stuff, so it's not really a surprise. When I was a kid in school, my Valentine's bag generally only got a few token offerings. It just never gelled with me as a fun time. In fact, it was four days prior to Valentine's Day, way-back-when, that I proposed to my wife. She was astonished that I had not waited until the normal day for such moments, and in her idealistic world view, concluded that I was a hopeless romantic.
My first thought was, Valentine's Day? Is that really a thing? Should it be on my radar? The truth was, it was payday and I was able to pay off the ring that I had in lay-a-way. (Now there's a flashback to the old days.)
I don't recall how long I let her believe I was such a sap before I confessed the true reason. Obviously, I'm a failure at the romantic thing. Or, maybe not. Maybe I am a subliminal romantic who doesn't let silly calendar games dictate how or when I demonstrate my affections. I'll let you decide.