When I was in Grade 4, my classmates and I created Valentine’s Day bins by decorating empty tissue boxes with red and pink paper hearts. We were given creative license to personalize our boxes, and I can still recall hot gluing a Doug Gilmour hockey card and Toronto Maple Leafs logo among the paper hearts. This was long before inclusivity was enforced in the classroom, and many of us silently accepted that our creative efforts might be in vain should our bins remain empty on distribution day.

Adding to this pre-adolescent angst was that we did not have a local Walmart or Superstore where we could purchase our paper valentines. Instead, we secured our supply from Gerald’s, the local grocery store, which sold perforated sheets of punch-out valentines. These sheets revealed the class social order, as we gave the biggest valentines to our favourite people. Oh, the anguish when the person to whom you gave your largest valentine gave theirs to your buddy in the back row!

The days of giving paper valentines are long over for me. My valentine and I have reached the stage where we are quite content with an evening of takeout and a few moments together away from our teen and pre-teen, rather than flowers, jewelry and chocolate—although if I’m lucky I’ll also get a pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for dessert (she knows the way to my heart!).

But recently, I have had the privilege of witnessing what it looks like when a marriage union is bound tightly with the love of Jesus.

I am currently walking the journey of grief with a man I greatly admire, a man well into his 90s, who recently lost his spouse of more than 70 years. Occasionally I visit and listen as he recounts stories of their first encounter, their early days of marriage, the jobs they both held, and the family God blessed them with. I am always impressed that he speaks of her as someone he truly admired and respected, praising her accomplishments, showing her creations and speaking fondly of their life together. I leave each visit more and more convinced that his love for his spouse was second only to his love for the Lord.

The reality for this man is that in his wife’s final months, he did all he could to tend to her needs and be her constant helpmate. At a time in his life when he, too, could use assistance from others, he would lovingly help her get through each day by doing whatever was required—wiping her chin, covering her with a blanket, lifting a glass to her lips or holding her hand to steady a tremor. Often, as she drifted off to sleep, he would lift himself close to her face, kiss her gently and whisper, “I love you!”

When I asked him what their secret was to a long and healthy marriage, he responded with a single word, “Jesus!” A smile spread widely across his face and then he added, “Sheldon, you and your wife have a lot of life ahead of you. Just remember that a cord of three strands is not easily broken—keep Jesus as the focal point of your marriage and ministry and you’ll be just fine.”

It’s true that Valentine’s Day can evoke many different feelings and emotions for people. Not everyone is a fan. But many people (me included) appreciate that planted right in the middle of a bitterly cold winter month is a date that highlights the warmth and affection associated with the gift of love. And while it is important to acknowledge the love between you and your significant other, there is no greater love than the love God has for me and for you.

It’s been a long time since I have seen those perforated sheets of punch-out valentines from Gerald’s. But if I could, today, I’d punch out the largest one and offer it to Jesus. For it is his strand of love, entwined with our own, that keeps us bound together.

Captain Sheldon Bungay is the corps officer at St. John’s Temple, N.L.

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