Skip to main content

You Still Got It (And I Just Want It Back)

Image
By

I’ve never been accused of being overly romantic. No one ever described me as the guy who made hearts skip a beat or knees go weak. I wasn’t the slow-motion hallway entrance. I wasn’t the varsity quarterback with a soundtrack. I was more of a dependable background character with strong opinions and questionable dance moves. 

Valentine’s Day, if we’re being honest, can be brutal. For some, it’s roses and reservations. For others, it’s a magnifying glass held over loneliness. It can feel a lot like Christmas or New Year’s Eve when you don’t have someone to hug at midnight. The world pairs off. Restaurants glow. Social media becomes a highlight reel of candlelight and captions.

And if you’re alone? It can feel like you missed the draft. Throughout the years, I fell head over heels more times than I care to admit. And if we’re being completely transparent — most of those young ladies were out of my league. Like… varsity traveling overseas league. I knew it then. I still know it now. Which is why, if we’re telling the truth on this Valentine’s Day morning, I sometimes shake my head and think: I got lucky. Mrs. Sturgill? She was Way out of my League. 


Before that chapter… There were others. And when those relationships ended, it didn’t feel poetic. It didn’t feel like “when one door closes, another opens.” It felt like someone walked out of my life carrying a piece of my heart in their coat pocket. 

I know that sounds like a country song. That’s because it is. This post was born of one line I heard this morning from artist Brett Young: “You still got it… and I just want it back.” There’s something about that lyric that hits different once you’ve lived a little.

Because here’s the question no Hallmark card answers: When someone walks away with a piece of your heart… do you ever get it back, or do you just learn to live slightly asymmetrical?

We tell young people, “You’ll move on.” We tell friends, “There are plenty of fish in the sea.” We tell ourselves, “Time heals all wounds.” But does it restore the missing pieces, or does the heart do something stranger? Maybe it grows new tissue around the empty space. Like a lizard losing its tail — the body adapts. It regenerates. The new tail isn’t the same, but it works. It balances. It carries on.

Maybe the heart does that. Maybe it doesn’t get the old piece back. Maybe it grows wiser muscle instead. Scar tissue isn’t weakness; it’s reinforcement.

Valentine’s Day anxiety isn’t just about being single. It’s about memory. It’s about the what-ifs. The almosts. The ones who were never ours to begin with. It’s about that moment you realize love doesn’t always return what it borrowed.

Maybe there is a quiet grace in all of it, every time someone walked away with a piece of my heart…I didn’t end up with less. I ended up different.  A little humbler. A little sharper.  A little more aware that love isn’t earned by league placement.

And somehow the heart keeps beating. Stronger, even. If you’re alone this Valentine’s Day, here’s what I’ll say:

You are not behind. You are not undrafted. You are not incomplete. You are simply mid-chapter.

And if your heart feels like it’s missing pieces, don’t panic. It knows how to rebuild. It always has. And sometimes you wake up one day next to someone who makes you whisper, “I have no idea how I pulled this off.”

Happy Valentine’s Day.  


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Inclusion - Giving Students What They Need to Succeed

By
I officially surrendered my man card the day I said, “I do,” back in 1987.  Apparently, there are no returns. Yesterday I wept in my office. Not the dignified, single-tear kind of weeping. I’m talking full-on, reach-for-the-Kleenex, thank-God-the-door-is-closed weeping. We had just told a parent—whose child is on the spectrum—that we believe in her son, and we want him to stay at our school. Those words cost us something. They cost planning. They cost resources. They cost energy. But they didn’t cost us our mission. And here’s the irony: this conversation came on the heels of another one where I had to tell a “potential family” that we didn’t believe our school was the right fit for their children. Same day. Same office. Same principal. Two completely different outcomes. If you’ve ever wondered whether there’s an internal battle between a principal’s head and heart, let me assure you—it’s not theoretical. It’s daily. And sometimes it’s exhausting. Like most of my blogs, there’s a b...
Post a Comment
Read more

On Humanity, Rumor, and the Discipline of Decency

By
Every so often, the world reminds us, sometimes gently, sometimes with a jolt, that God’s plan for us still runs through the old, unfashionable virtues: love, charity, humility, friendship. Not as slogans. As practices. Lately, the reminder hasn’t come through a clear, verified tragedy so much as through the way we react to rumor, outrage, and one another. In an age where headlines race ahead of facts and partisanship outpaces compassion, the simplest test of our humanity may be this: Do we refuse to cheer the suffering, real or rumored, of those we disagree with? I think about friendship across differences. Actor James Woods once said of director Rob Reiner that political differences never stood in the way of their love and respect for each other. Reiner fought for Woods when others wouldn’t. They worked together. They remained friends. That’s how it is in the real world, or at least how it should be. You don’t have to agree to stay human. I also think about families who live with add...
1 comment
Read more

Reigniting the Fire: From Embers to Flame

By
  There’s a moment in an interview with Michael Franti that’s stayed with me. He spoke about how a roaring fire, once reduced to embers, doesn’t need much to come alive again, just a gentle breath, a little attention, a whisper of wind. And suddenly, the flame returns. That image, embers waiting patiently for someone to believe in their potential, feels deeply personal. Franti once said, “I think of love as an action. Finding something that’s outside of yourself, to serve someone else’s soul, helping to ignite someone else’s spirit, to bring about ease of heart and joy, serenity in somebody else.” That quote reminds me that reigniting a fire, whether in us or in others, is about connection. It’s about showing up, listening, and offering warmth when someone feels cold inside. Not long ago, I found myself in a place I never expected to be. The fire inside me had dimmed. Life hadn’t knocked me down in one dramatic blow; it had chipped away, little by little. Leadership challen...
2 comments
Read more