On Valentine’s Day, how is your heart?

Could be today, tomorrow, or twenty years from now, but I know at some point my heart will beat for the last time.

I wonder what my heart will be thinking on that last beat?

While I’ve tried to be good to my heart, I know I had many days when worry burdened it.

I’m certain my heart could feel the stress and worry inside my soul.

That stress and worry wears on a heart.

All my years in school buildings impacted my heart.

In those school settings, I needed a balanced heart—not too soft, not too tough, and always fair no matter the circumstances. I have days when my old brain revisits challenging moments with students. Their names, and sometimes faces come back to me. Unfortunately, in most of those dealings, the student hadn’t done his/her best thinking. I wonder how life is treating them now?

My heart is still very good at worrying.

John Chapter 14, verse 27 comes to mind: “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

I’ll be honest with you, when I think about our world, my heart is troubled and afraid. I don’t know how we can continue to live with such a dangerous division. Will our hearts ever be jolted to stop our perilous slide before it’s too late?

On the afternoon of Thursday, February 8, I was in a meeting that started at 1:30. The meeting was a walk through of a section of our church building that will undergo a significant renovation beginning at the end of May 2024.

The tour was helpful. And I was reminded that the success of the renovation hinges on many factors, but the real key comes down to people.

While walking in and out of classrooms, stairwells, and hallways in the Preschool wing, I caught a glimpse of two hearts. These hearts were pinned with clothes pins to a string where they had been left to dry.

I loved these hearts.

I was drawn to the hearts by the splotches of pink and purple against the white background. And on top of the splotches were lines of pink and purple going in every direction across the heart.

I imagine the students had a good time creating these vibrant, colorful hearts. Whoever is lucky enough to receive one of these pretty hearts on Valentine’s Day should immediately frame it for a lifetime. And that person should look at that beautiful rendering everyday.

Perhaps when you were growing up, you watched the movie, The Wizard of Oz. I loved the movie and the characters who told the story. And there have been many days in my life when I have questioned if I had a brain, an ounce of courage, and a heart.

You might recall what the Wizard of Oz said to the Tin Man as the movie was nearing its conclusion: “As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don’t know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.”

Everyday, life breaks a heart.

Even though medical advances have found ways to extend the life of a heart, those medical researchers have not found the magic to prevent breaking a heart.

But, no matter the cause, the pain, the trauma, the loneliness of a broken heart beats forever.

A long time ago, I was an overweight, shy fifth grader in Mrs. Cline’s class at Hillcrest Elementary School in Burlington, North Carolina. As Valentine’s Day approached, my mother made sure that I had cards to give to my classmates. I printed my name on the inside of each card.

For some reason, I timidly scribbled “I love you” on the back of Anne Foster’s card. She was a pretty girl, and for all I know every boy in our class scribbled the same words on the back of her card. Nothing ever came of my note, but years later, I did find the love of my life.

During Christmas break from college on a cold winter night in West Hartford, Connecticut, an apprehensive and fearful boy from North Carolina told my future father-in-law that I loved and respected his youngest daughter. I asked for permission to marry this pretty lady.

Thankfully, he didn’t say no. That was one night when the Scarecrow, Lion, and Tin Man could affirm I made one of the best decisions of my life.

Every year, Valentine’s Day comes around to remind us about our hearts and love. I’m sure florists, makers of chocolate candy, and greeting card companies appreciate the business.

And yet, somehow, I wonder why I don’t use Valentine’s Day to assess my heart with these questions:

Is my heart capable of loving beyond my family?

Can I love the unloveable?

Can I love those with whom I have the greatest divide?

Can I love those who are the exact opposite of me?

What might happen in this world instead of me scribbling “I love you” on the back of a Valentine card, if I found the courage in my heartbeats to love the unloveable, the dividers, and the opposites?

Might my heart beat with less trouble and fear if I embrace this approach?

In the time that I have left on this old earth, might the last heartbeat of my life be more content if I become better at loving the unloveable, the dividers, and the opposites like Jesus did?

How about you?