How DO I love thee?

'Tis the season for red hearts and roses. I decided to do a little digging into a renowned real-life love story. Sadly, the resulting marriage lasted only 15 years, from 1846 until the bride passed away in 1861.

It felt weirdly satisfying to learn that this quintessentially romantic English couple was neither gorgeous nor young when their relationship began to blossom. Elizabeth Barrett, although an accomplished and respected poet, was nearly forty and in poor health when she first heard from Robert Browning, six years her junior. A prolific poet himself, Browning’s works had been published at the expense of his father. In fact, Browning lived with his parents until his marriage to Elizabeth when he was 34. Not exactly what we’d consider great husband material. The couple married secretly and returned to their parental homes for a week before running away to Italy. More on that later.

Elizabeth, born in 1806 as the first of twelve children to wealthy parents, began writing poetry at age four. Her father, Edward, declared he would disinherit any of his children who chose to marry. (Perhaps being a slave owner gives one the illusion that offspring are property to be controlled.)

In his first letter to Elizabeth, Robert Browning wrote, “I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett.” 

Thus began a secret exchange of letters surrounding an equally secret courtship. She wrote, “I am not of a cold nature, and cannot bear to be treated coldly. When cold water is thrown upon a hot iron, the iron hisses.”

To me, it seems a secret relationship between two poets is both the perfect catalyst for romance and the least likely to last. But it was during their courtship that Elizabeth wrote her famous Sonnet 43.

True to his word, Elizabeth’s father disinherited her after she snuck away to marry Robert Browning in a private ceremony at St. Marylebone Parish Church. After honeymooning in Paris, the couple moved to Italy for the sake of Elizabeth’s health.

At the age of 43, between four miscarriages, Elizabeth gave birth to a son, Robert, whom they nicknamed Pen. The family remained in Italy, living among fellow writers and artists. Her health continued to deteriorate until her death at the age of 55, in 1861. She died in Robert Browning’s arms. Though he lived another 28 years, he never remarried.

The shadow of loss was cast over Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s life from the start. She lost her mother, two beloved brothers, her health, her father’s acceptance, and four unborn babies. Did her one true love compensate for all that? The last lines of her most famous sonnet may be the truest: “…and if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.”

Though scripture tells us there will be no marriage in Heaven, this aspect of Barrett’s sonnet is spot-on. When we are free from all that binds us to this earthly life, free from our own selfishness and insecurities, we will indeed love others—all others—far better than we ever could on our best day on earth. That will be a day far more glorious than Valentine’s!

 

Flower Power

A lot of my female friends agree when I say I would rather receive an occasional single flower throughout the year on “nothing days” than a predictable bouquet of roses on Valentine’s Day or an anniversary.

A lot of my female friends also agree that announcing this preference results in no flowers at all.

So, when winter drags on with its cold, dark days, there’s nothing like some posies to brighten my world. On a recent visit to the grocery store, I decided to splurge.

The vibrant arrangement that immediately caught my eye was a mix of coral-tipped yellow roses, purple carnations, red Gerbera daisies, greens, yellows, and more. Too gorgeous for words and no price tag in sight. I asked an employee, “how much for this bouquet?”

“$39.99.”

Ouch. Too much. I felt sure my guilty conscience would not allow me to enjoy those flowers. I picked out a blooming plant instead, which sold for $12. Besides, I told myself. It’s potted, so it will last longer. Much more practical.

As I pushed it up and down the aisles in the child seat of my cart, however, I couldn’t forget about the other bouquet. The one I really wanted. The arguments in my brain swirled:

Can you fully enjoy this one knowing you’ve ‘settled?’ If not, why bother at all?

Oh c’mon. You deserve it.

You’ve always hated the notion of ‘deserving’ anything. You have already received far more than you could ever deserve.

Stop feeling guilty. Some women spend this much on booze or cigarettes every week.

Maybe donating the money to charity would give you a bigger lift.

Stop overthinking it!

With reckless abandon, I dashed to the produce section, returned the potted plant to its shelf, and prepared to walk away. Then I abruptly paused long enough to grab the bouquet I wanted all along and hustled over to the cashier line before I could change my mind.

The customer ahead of me saw them lying on the conveyor belt. “Gorgeous flowers.”

“Right?” I said. “A little touch of spring.”

“How much are they?” she asked.

I cringed. “Forty bucks.”

“Oh, but so worth it.”

I smiled. “Thank you for saying so. I was feeling a little guilty.”

“Hey, you deserve it.”

I’d never met this woman in my life, but she somehow believed I deserved those flowers. “If anyone tries to give you a hard time about it, you tell them you’re worth it.”

“Well, the only one who would give me a hard time is myself,” I said.

“Then you tell yourself!” she insisted. “We women have to treat ourselves once in a while. Hey, if it’ll get you through the winter, know what I mean? We give and give and give. Am I right?”

Words I’d never say but had surely thought. I smiled and blinked back a tear. “Thank you,” I managed to whisper. Sometimes God sends his little messages through strangers, but always right when you need them most. 

I took those flowers home, put them in my biggest vase, and displayed them on the dining table. The next day I divvied them among five smaller vases so I could enjoy them all over the house. As I continued to trim and cull, those flowers cheered my home for more than two weeks. A great investment! 

If your doctor prescribed forty dollars’ worth of medication, you’d cough up the money and fill the prescription, wouldn’t you? Do it for your mental health. If you need permission, here’s mine. You’re worth it.

A Lesson from Winter on Love, Sex, & Marriage

One benefit of these frigid Manitoba mornings is, you don’t waste time staring into your closet deciding what to wear. You simply wear it all.

As I bundle up for my morning walks to work, I’ve been contemplating the importance of doing things in the proper sequence. Long johns before pants, pants before ski pants. Then boots, parka, hood, scarf. Backpack. Gloves. Big leather mittens over the gloves. It all works together quite nicely to help me survive the brutality known as our weather.

But what if I decided to mix it up one morning because I’m bored with the routine or feeling a bit rebellious? Maybe I want to put my long johns on last, or my boots first. What if I put on my backpack and then tried putting my parka on over that? Or maybe I could put on my big leather mitts first. It could be done—maybe. But by the time I managed to zip my coat and tie my scarf while wearing those bulky mitts, I’d be frustrated to tears. I’d be sweating like a boxer. And my work day would be almost over.

Doing things in the right order applies to so much of life, doesn’t it? No matter how much we might like to skip some steps, especially if they’re hard, life works better in a certain order. We need the education before the good job, and the experience before the better job. We must practice before proficiency comes. We’re required to raise children before we can spoil grandchildren. Buckle up before driving off.

Oh sure, we can try doing things cart-before-the-horse. It might even work, with effort. Instead of washing dishes right after we’ve eaten off them, we could wash them just before we eat. Either way, we’re eating off a clean dish, so what’s the big deal? But seriously, who wants to be scraping off yesterday’s stuck-on spaghetti before you can enjoy tonight’s chicken?

You might succeed at driving to the gas station on a flat tire and then putting air in it. You could try washing a dirty floor before you sweep up the loose dirt. It’s possible to dress first and then take a shower. It’s also really, really dumb.

How about marriage, sex, and having babies? These days, people laugh at the idea of saving sex for marriage. Like it’s downright dumb.

But is it? Have you ever met anyone who waited and regretted it? I haven’t. Present company included. Most things work a whole lot better when done in the right order. Your Creator knows you and put some rules in place that He knows will, if followed, work best for you and the order of your life. Sure, you can change the order and “get along fine.” Lots of people appear to do exactly that.

And lots of people don’t. They carry around emotional scars from past relationships which deeply and negatively affect their present one—wounds they could have avoided by doing things in the order intended by the One who knows them best, loves them most, and understands their heart.

Valentine’s Day is a time to celebrate love and romance and sex. It’s a cold world, friend. Why make your life harder than necessary? Bundle up in the right order.