I have a feeling people are only shallow, lazy, and do no research. If they’d done their homework many people would not mark this church-sanctioned day with the looseness we give it these days—people clad in red, buying everything red, having street jams, going to the nightclub, people losing their virginity, etc. The day is marked as a secular holiday, one for desecrating whatever is holy, whatever is true, so much that its real significance is lost on us.
I held a pre-Val’s day class (spelled out the history of it); any careful research might reveal it is one sanctioned by the Church. People were astonished why all these so-called Western holidays/celebrations could hold religious places. It would shock what following the crowd can do to you, not least among them being ignorant.
On the day in question, I was busy. I had five grueling hours of talks and discussions: four hours on the trot, an hour’s interval, then the other. This spanned the hours between noon and supper. It was great. Then I went shopping for the perfect gift for my woman. I have always resisted buying gifts, but this being a day of showing love I went from shop to shop, place to place in search of that special gift for a woman of virtue to present to; it’s every man’s nightmare, shopping!
But the thought of one so dear to my heart spurred me on as I combed the shops on this firecrackers-littered night. It was pleasant to view the skies as I was out on the streets in the night, at a time the Chinese Spring festival was in full swing, the skies adorned with fleeting images from the mouths of ear-splitting, heart wrenching firecrackers. The skies were a treat all over Jinan. Not being one to be caught sky gazing at any time, it was quite surprising to find myself in this dreamlike state a couple of times. Even had to shake myself to the reality of my feat (fetching the woman’s gift) many more moments than appropriate. The only drawback being the cacophony of blasting akin to a war zone and that deeply depressed me.
Back to my search: I found the perfect gift, one the Magi of blessed memory would be proud of, even envy a little, just a wee bit. Being the perfect gift, it was priceless. Didn’t spend a fortune on it and as the beaming attendants huddled around me (obviously attracted by my presence, my fine African bones) and explained the history behind the all but perfectly severed fish (you see, one was longer, later my woman tells me she was the shorter …) that formed the crown of the necklace I realized I had found what I was searching for—something deserving of the lovely woman for whom I was shopping. My Father had been true to His words: always He was present, serving as light for my path, lamp for my feet.
The human in me had forever burdened me with the responsibility of fishing for a present for my woman. On the fore-noon of Val’s day I had searched my mind unsuccessfully for what gift to give my woman ( a burden true men struggle with). In times after noon I let my glib lips spew out words of wisdom to the hearts of hungry ears; and in the evening I adorned the neck of a lovely woman, my woman, with the priceless necklace. She hugged, twirled, and hugged again, surprise in her eyes, tears of joy teasing at the corner of her swell eyes.
At this present moment, as I write I steal a glance at her, at her priceless possession which she touches tenderly, involuntarily, says “dui bu qi” to me and walks away. She knows not to interrupt while I write, the lovely woman and a loving calmness steals its way into my heart, pushes away the temporal frustrations life always throws our way. The reassurance of a lovely woman. It is well. It is well. Always it is well.
