We pray today for those in love, those off love and those in between. We remember especially those who find themselves a little bit lonelier than normal.
We do not pray today for loved-up couples, exchanging overpriced flowers and foil wrapped hearts, leaking pheromones like diesel fumes at candlelit dinners. We are pretty sure, Lord, they will be OK for now.
Instead we hereby dedicate this happy-crappy day to all the brave teenagers who dared to send a card (hoping in vain with every fibre of their beings for something back.) Let them be a little bit more OK because we prayed.
We think of the mother, coping alone, who quietly bought herself flowers yesterday. Let her kids be kind today. Let teenagers tidy their bedrooms. And if that’s a miracle too far (we realise you’ve got a lot on in the Middle East right now) could they at least initiate a hug at bedtime. And, Lord, let those daffodils last longer and shine brighter than the overpriced bouquet of red roses which also caught her eye in the supermarket.
Finally we ask you to look upon the elderly gentleman gazing today at a fading sepia photograph in a silver frame of a wedding in another time. Look at him and look with him and be with him in the remembering.
King of Love come comfort the unlovely and the unloving parts of our world and of ourselves today.
Song of Songs inspire a surprising turn of phrase, a thoughtful act to rekindle a little romance in marriages mired in the mundane. Melt our tiny, tinny expensive chocolate hearts.
And forgive us today we pray for this cheap, gaudy, hysterical, isolating thing we have sometimes somehow tried to make of you. Amen.
courtesy of Pete Craig