Valentine's Day and a Case of the Chicken Pox

Valentine’s Day has never really been my thing—at least not in my later years. I mean, making Valentine pouches out of construction paper and stickers was cool (yeah, I’m that old). But my biggest flashbulb memory of Valentine’s Day? Getting chicken pox in high school.

Yeah. Let’s talk about that for a second.

Two of us got chicken pox that year. If you went to Sabetha High School, you might know the other person—but without their permission, they’ll remain unnamed. It was awful. Who gets chicken pox in high school anyway?  It felt unfair and isolating, not very Valentine’s day appropriate.

As our children were growing up, Stuart and I created a little Valentine’s tradition of our own. We always wanted our kids to feel special and loved—regardless of whether they were in a relationship—so we started doing “date nights” with them. Stu would take Kaleigh, and I would take Kole, and we’d head out on the town for a special one-on-one night.  Looking back, that tradition mattered more than I probably realized at the time. It was our way of saying: you don’t need a partner to be worthy of celebration. You matter just because you’re you.

If I’m being honest, it was also an easy out for me. Valentine’s Day always felt like a once-a-year performance where people spent a lot of money to prove something that should already be obvious. I’ve always believed love should be lived out daily—not concentrated into one day in February.

Which got me thinking: where did Valentine’s Day even come from?

I did a quick Google search—and like any good scholar, I assume the internet is always right. So here you have it. Brace yourself.

“St. Valentine’s Day was originally a Catholic feast day established in A.D. 496 to honor a third-century priest named Valentine who was executed on February 14.”  “Pope Gelasius I selected February 14 to honor the martyrdom of St. Valentine on the anniversary of his beheading.”  “Although the Catholic Church still recognizes St. Valentine, it removed his feast day from its calendar in 1969.”

Okay. Morbid, to say the least.  Let’s celebrate a beheading by buying candy and cards for the people we love? But I digress.

For me, 2026 has landed differently. Something about this season has shifted my perspective. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s loss. Maybe it’s the intentional work of choosing to see the good in a world that so often feels heavy and divided.

The reality is this: love is hard. Romantic love. Friendship. Family. Even loving yourself.  All of it takes work  It takes showing up when it would be easier to pull away. But somewhere deep inside, there has to be a part of us—somewhere—that believes as imperfect and messy as it is, love will prevail.  I was terrible at relationships growing up. Having a boyfriend felt like a lot of hassle and disappointment. Then I got to college and met this guy. He was obnoxious and kind and caring, and he set his eyes on me.  Our life together has been anything but easy. We’d both say that without hesitation. We’ve endured devastating loss. We’ve battled through incredibly hard seasons. Yet here we are.  We’re empty nesters now, and somehow through all of it, we’ve created an amazing family with two incredible kids who keep us grounded every single day.  That kind of love isn’t guaranteed. Not everyone gets it. And I’m realizing how important it is to stop taking it for granted.

So yeah—maybe this year I’ll lean into Valentine’s Day a little differently.  Maybe even embrace the beheading of St. Valentine, and man, am I looking forward to something sweet. (My 40-day sugar fast will officially be over.)

All my love, my friends--You deserve it!