Spring is here… although someone forgot to tell the weathermen. I don’t know about you, but where I live, I still need to use my fireplace at night.

Nevertheless, according to the calendar, it's spring. Time to open up the house and let the sunshine in. Grab a few dozen trash bags, go through all the closets and the attic, and throw away everything that has cluttered up the house.

It seems to happen to all of us. One minute we’re running here and there with Christmas parties at every turn, the frenzy of shopping sprees and the unending regalia of holiday cheer.

The next minute we’re flipping over the New Year’s calendar, dazed at the huge pile of bills, while old-man winter slowly crouches just outside our frosted window pane, sneering at us once again.

The story of Valentine's Day begins in the third century with an oppressive Roman emperor and a humble Christian martyr. The emperor was Claudius II Gothicus. The Christian was Valentinus.

I've heard a lot of droopy prayers in my life. Hey, I've prayed a lot of them, too.

Prayers of desperation -- God, you've got to help me!

Prayers of self-pity -- God, things are so awful!

Prayers of resignation -- God, if you want to leave me unemployed, then I can’t stop you.

While I was cleaning out an old storage box I picked up a large envelope and emptied it onto the floor. Ancient bills, canceled checks, cards from people I barely remembered. Why did I save all this stuff? I wondered. Then a bent, tattered business card caught my eye: Queen City Casket Company, Springfield, MO. I turned it over. There, in faded ink, was a hand-scrawled message. Immediately my mind traveled back decades.