My Valentine | Beverly Carroll

My Valentine

I began my day here, at the grave of the only boy I ever loved. Jimmy told me he loved me for the first time on Valentine’s Day, when we were fifteen years old. He proposed to me on bended knee, exactly six years after that.

We were married for 31 years, enjoying the kind of love most only dream about. We delighted in each other, never, for a moment, taking for granted how blessed we were to belong to each other.

We didn’t get our forever, but we did get our happily ever after. It just didn’t last long enough.

The ache remains, but so does the grace. Once again, today, grief and grace collide.

So much devastation.
So much anguish.
So much pain.
Countless ways to be broken, but only one way to be mended.
Manifold needs, but only one solution:
Jesus.

Always and only, Jesus.
My anchor,
my healer,
my mender.

He, the Lifter of my head, ever nigh to the broken-hearted, meets my gaze, dries my tears, and whispers His promise to stay.

Beloved, if you, too, associate this day with grief, pain, or loneliness, please know you are not alone. Jesus sees you, and He cares. He bottles your tears, and takes note of each and every one. Offer Him your broken heart. Hand Him your shattered dreams. Lay it all at His feet and allow Him to do what only He can do.

The redemption He is working, will, one day, by His grace, transfigure your sorrow into something to behold. I believe that with all my heart. I truly do. If you don’t just yet, I’ll believe enough for the both of us. His love sustains, His promises prevail, and His healing is assured.

“There is no walking into the Kingdom of God. We can only be carried.”
Jonathan Martin

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© 2025 Beverly Carroll