I am a big movie fan and though I don’t get out to see them like I used to, I spend my fair share of time on Netflix. So in honor of Valentine’s Day I’m sharing my favorite romantic moments from the big screen. This is your gift from me. You’re so very welcome.

1. The Austrian Lindler Folk Dance from The Sound of Music. This is the moment Maria and Captain Von Trapp realize this is more than your typical governess/naval-captain-whistle-blowing-Nazi-rejector relationship.

2. Carl and Ellie’s love story from Up. There’s very little dialogue in this scene. There doesn’t need to be.

3. A kiss in the rain from The Notebook. All that time apart. All that love. The reconnection. Ryan Gosling.

4. The boombox scene in Say Anything. Show me a girl in 1989 who didn’t want a guy standing outside her window blaring Peter Gabriel and I’ll show you a girl who never saw this movie.

5. I can’t find video of this scene from A Beautiful Mind, but this whole movie wins because a love story that endures mental illness is about as romantic as you can get.

Nash: “You once said that God must be a painter because he gave us so many colors.”
Alicia: “I didn’t think you were listening…”
Nash: “I was listening.”

A man that listens? Swoon.

6. The last few minutes of Good Will Hunting is a happy ending like no other and oh-so-dreamy. It also doesn’t show either member of the couple on whom the romantic story-line is based. This is me, throwing you a romantic curve-ball.

7. I know these are kids, but they grow up and get married. They love each other their WHOLE LIVES, you guys! This scene from Braveheart steals my heart.

8. A love you have to let go. Ouch, Castaway. Just ouch. Also, more rain. I have a thing for water.

9. I’m not a huge Tim Burton fan, but the epic beauty and storytelling in Big Fish is delightful. It’s one of my favorite films and this sweeping romantic gesture and field of daffodils makes me weepy.

10. This scene from Far and Away is the reason I was crushed when Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman got divorced.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! I hope you find the time to curl up and watch a love story.

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As a best friend’s father lay dying last winter we gathered around the edge of his bed and I grabbed one of his hands. I held it in mine and traced the lines and sun spots dotting his skin. Those hands were like a glimpse into his past; of a life well-lived. And, it was one of the first times I’ve talked out loud about how special I think a person’s hands are.

Mine are typing this post right now. They have typed, or handwritten, thousands of stories, letters and postcards to friends and family all over the world. They have held crying babies, laughing babies, and a dying baby. They have cooked countless meals and, in the case of tonight’s dinner, burned a few as well.

I used to watch my grandmother’s as she rolled out her own noodles, or carried my handicapped cousin through the house. My children have used theirs to make me homemade cards. My dad used his for manual labor. My mom uses hers to work logic problems, or wrap her loving arms around the back of her very dirty grandson.

Hands create, they comfort, they caress and they betray. I can’t help but think of the love they promised, the ring mine wore for 18 years, and how they held the pen that signed that all away. I remember another relationship when they were used to hurt me. I think of the guns they fire and the harm they can do.

And, I can’t help but think of the new hands I hold; stronger than any I know, calloused and worn, but gentle and giving. They have rubbed my shoulders during tense times, held me in the midst of darkness and danced with me in the light. They have been quite wonderful at prodding me to do new things in this new life. I love them.

They say eyes are the window to the soul, but I think it’s the hands. Next time I see you, take my hand and give me a glimpse into yours.

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We Catholics are in the home stretch of Lent. I used to give up chocolate or beer, or something else that would slim me down in time for spring break. Part of me offered something up out of faith and part of me offered something up out of vanity. At least I’m honest.

This year I decided that instead of giving something up, I would try to do better; as in, improving upon being human. I’m not doing so well.

My thought was that I would focus on forgiveness. I have a lot of anger and resentment and, honestly, on top of it being WRONG to be filled with that much hatred, I’m just tired of feeling this way. It’s draining and unbelievably bad for my soul.

So I started out on Ash Wednesday hopeful and feeling good about improving myself. I felt good – clean, for lack of a better word. There is something to be said for a fresh start.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

By that evening I had lost my cool and said horrible things that didn’t make me feel better and certainly didn’t do any good. This forgiveness stuff is hard.

Ultimately, I have to find a way to get to this place so I keep trying every day. I need to not only turn the other cheek, but also forgive the person who slapped me in the first place. The problem is that I am a master grudge-holder.

I think I’ll get there. I can honestly say I am thankful for where I am today and appreciation is a start, right? RIGHT? Being grateful has been a journey and I’m happy to say I’ve truly arrived. The road wasn’t easy, but the destination has a pretty stellar view.

And, knowing that someday I’ll feel the same way about forgiveness is what motivates me now. I am aware that it’s going to feel really good when I finally get to that place.

But, I’m not going to lie. It would be a real bonus if I’d go down a size.

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Well, are you?

Oh, I know. Half of you are just staring at the words thinking, I don’t even understand the question!

Let me back up.

Last week, I was keenly aware of how fulfilling my life was. My son had a successful surgery (lucky number 13, to keep his eardrums from collapsing, because OF COURSE his ear drums are collapsing), work was going well, I exercised, I studied, I had dinner with friends and even had time for Netflix. One day, the sun came out! Thanks, Ohio!

Then something happened which made me realize the joy I felt was only half as good as it could’ve been. I realized only a portion of me had experienced all that goodness because I was really kind of empty inside. I just didn’t know it.

I know you’re dying to know what my realization was, but that doesn’t matter. It was something intensely personal to me.

YOU might get filled up by a well-placed smile on the face of a grocery clerk. It could be a hug from your child or a liver-breathed lick on the face from your puppy. It’s whatever you need, at a given moment, to make you feel like you are FEELING with 100% of you. It’s fulfillment multiplied because your soul has soaked up enough to make it a puffy, smiley-faced sponge.

The trouble is being able to recognize it. I certainly didn’t feel like anything was missing – quite the contrary. So, how do you make yourself whole when you don’t even realize you’re half-empty?

My suggestion is that even when you think you’re at your peak, push on. Try new things, travel outside your comfort zone, let people in, read more, believe in something greater than yourself, give back, practice acceptance, trust people, LET GO.

You may think you have exactly what you need. You may feel complete, but there’s a chance that a new experience will move you away from being a fraction of yourself. And what’s crazy is that you may never know you were missing anything until you find it.

You’ve certainly heard that you should give your best effort, but do you receive with that kind of effort too? Most of us don’t think we deserve an abundance of happiness, because we are defeatists. We believe that bad things happen to good people (which they do…they definitely do), but good things can happen to good people too.

So let yourself be whole. Trust me. It feels 100% good.

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