Be Mine💕😳
A few weeks ago — the first week of February — I was walking through my neighborhood just to clear my head and move my body.
There’s a woman in our community — I only know her by her initials, “LG” — who paints rocks and leaves them around for people to find. I’ve seen her rocks for at least six years. I’ve often wondered what her name is. Linda? Lisa? Lorraine? Laura? I don’t know. Just LG.
That day, I spotted a bright fluorescent pink rock sitting near the sidewalk.
It said: Be Mine.
Underneath were a purple heart and a green heart. It was so simple. So cheerful. So unexpected. It felt like it was placed there just for me.
I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket, and something inside me warmed. It didn’t feel random. It felt intentional. It felt like God…like He knew February was coming. Like He knew Valentine’s Day would stir old memories. Like He knew what my life used to look like — married, celebrating love with my family and friends and how different it looks now.
He sent the message before the holiday even arrived. He sent it before the chocolates and flowers fill the aisles at the grocery store.
Before couples make dinner reservations.
Before the world starts highlighting romantic love again.
“Be Mine.”
It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t demanding. It was tender.
This week, a friend sent me one of those ten-year flashback photos. Four couples at a Valentine’s dinner. Dancing. Smiling. My ex-husband and I among them.
And when I saw it, the sadness hit hard.
For about two hours, grief sat with me. The ache of having been loved wrong. The longing to be loved right. The weight of what was and what is no longer.
I cried until my eyes felt sandy and gritty. But they were cleansing tears. Honest tears.
And in the middle of that crying, I remembered my rock.
“Be Mine.”
And I realized something even deeper.
God is my Rock.
Not the painted one on my desk — though I cherish it — but the true Rock. The steady one. The unchanging one.
On a holiday built around romantic love, He reminded me that I have been on His mind from the beginning of time.
Before marriage.
Before divorce.
Before heartbreak.
Before longing.
I was already His.
And He is already mine.
That doesn’t erase the human desire to be held, chosen, cherished by another. It doesn’t silence the ache completely. But it anchors it.
It steadies it.
It reminds me that I am not unchosen.
I am not forgotten.
I am not late.
I am loved.
And sometimes God uses something as small as a painted rock to whisper a truth big enough to carry you through the month of February.
If this season feels tender for you, I hope you look for your rock.
God still leaves them. 💕
