An old love story.

“And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”

– Colossians 3:14

World War II was coming to an end. The handsome soldier was home for a short time, when the couple met on a blind date, set up by mutual friends. Originally, the young woman’s sister was the intended companion.  Fate intervened and her sister was unavailable, so she went instead.   

After the blind date, they spent time together until his leave was up.   She feared that would be the end of the new relationship.  Fortunately, that was not the case.  Because years later, this couple became my parents.

During his remaining days in the Army, he wrote to her, faithfully.  Real love letters.  As children, my sisters and I would plunder through closets and chest of drawers, searching for the shoe box filled with those love letters written so many years ago.

“My dearest darling”, each letter would begin.  We would giggle at the salutation. Our humor was short-lived, though.  Barely getting beyond the first paragraph, we were caught snooping time and again.     

“Put that box back where you found it and stay out of that closet.

Those letters are not for you to read.”

She kept those letters for the rest of her life.            

Sadly, after 33 years of marriage, my father died of cancer on February 14, 1976. My mother said many times,

“33 years was not much time.”

They began dating steadily after he returned home from service. After having a slight disagreement, they hadn’t seen each other for several weeks.  As my mother was walking home from work one afternoon, it started raining.  A car was approaching behind her and began to slow down.   She glanced over her shoulder. It was him!            

“Do you want a ride?”

“I just kept walking,” she said.

The rain got heavier.  The car continued to follow behind at a slow pace, as she sloshed through mud puddles.  Finally, soaking wet, she accepted the ride and got in the car. That ended the spat.                  

Late one afternoon, my mother, then age 82, and I sat talking.  She shared a story of one of their early dates.

“We went down to the Old River at Camp Pinckney with Martha Lee and Colonel.  We built a fire and roasted hot dogs.  We had the best time sitting around that fire, just talking and laughing until it was dark.”   

And, then with tears in her eyes, she remembered the time my father told her,

“You’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever known.”

After all these years, she was still in love with him.

She never remarried and when asked why, she simply said,

“Sometimes there is only one true love.

I had mine.

There’s no need to look elsewhere,

because you will not find it.”

So, whether it’s a lopsided heart cut from construction paper by the shaky hand of your six-year-old, the dozen perfectly shaped roses from your spouse, or one precious memory of long ago, Valentine’s Day is the perfect time to celebrate love.