Valentine’s Day gift
Renae Brumbaugh Green
My Valentine is the hunkiest hunk, the dreamiest dreamboat, the most romantic Romeo I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and I am the luckiest girl in the world. His name, as many of you know, is Superman. He builds houses. He designs beautiful landscapes. And—get this—he plays multiple instruments and sings like an angel. Not one of those sweet little girly angels, either . . . he sings like a big muscly warrior angel.
Now, as wonderful as all this is, it does present a unique set of problems, particularly when it comes to gift giving. And since it’s Valentine’s Day and all, I want to get him something he’ll enjoy. And since this is a G-rated article, let’s just stop any comments or thoughts that might give this an R rating. Shame on you.
So what does one get for a big burly Superman musician/builder/landscaper combo? I thought about a new toolbox . . . but he has one of those. A really nice one. I thought about some new plants for the yard, but when he wants a new plant, he just takes a cutting off an existing one—even if it’s on the side of the road—and propagates it. He’s not really a clothes guy; as long as he has a clean pair of blue jeans and a decent shirt, he’s good.
It doesn’t help matters that his birthday is in the fall and Christmas comes just six weeks before Valentine’s Day. I spend the entire spring and summer figuring out what to get him for his birthday and Christmas, and after that, I’m out of ideas.
He really wants to go on an all-expense-paid big game hunt to Canada, but that’s not exactly in my budget right now. So I’m stuck deciding between a box of chocolates, which I’ll end up eating since he doesn’t like sweets, or a bottle of cologne that will sit and gather dust for the next five years.
What’s a girl to do?
As frustrating as my dilemma is, I actually love that he’s so hard to buy for. It’s one of the things that draw me to him, even more than his muscles or his musicianship. He’s content. H e reacts to a beautiful sunset the way most of us would react to a new car. I guess I could just buy him an empty picture frame. He can hold it up every evening when the sun meets the horizon, and I’ll say, “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Except, that would be me taking credit for something only God can do, which is almost like plagiarism.
Superman doesn’t sit around all day wishing he had what somebody else has. He enjoys what’s in front of him right now, and he’s thankful just to be alive. There’s not anything I can give him that will make him any happier than he is right now.
So for Valentine’s Day this year, here’s my gift: I’m going to try to be more like him. I want to learn to slurp the sunrise like it’s a strawberry milkshake. I want to delight in the sparkle of the pond like it’s a sparkling 5-carat diamond. I want to celebrate the life I already have, instead of the life that seems just out of my reach.
But since it’s kind of hard to put a bow on that, I also got him a new jazz CD and a membership to the Dollar Shave Club.
“But godliness with contentment is great gain,” 1 Timothy 6:6.
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