Relatives,
Before the world wrapped Valentine’s Day in candy and cards, it was a day to remember a human being who walked the path of sacrifice.
The truth is layered, as stories often are. There may have been more than one called Valentine walking in the early centuries of the Church. The tales of secret weddings and notes signed with love grew later, shaped by the hands and hearts of many. Later generations weaved in romance. Commerce arrived much later.
What we can say with honesty is this: a human being named Valentine stood in the face of empire, and the people remembered him as one who kept faith.
And that matters.
Because we, as CoNAM, are called to speak truth—even when it is not easy.
We do not need stories stretched beyond their roots to find inspiration.
We honor what is true, and we plant those seeds in our hearts.
Valentine’s memory is not soft with sentiment. It is strong with courage.
He became a signpost for conscience, standing firm when the world pressed in.
Covenant over control.
Faithfulness over fear.
Whether every later detail can be verified or not, the Church preserved his name because he represented love that refused the easy path.
Not a love that whispers and hides.
Not convenient love.
Courageous love.
And this is where the story meets our own footsteps.
CoNAM’s work is not about romance.
It is about a sacred covenant woven through generations.
It is about sacred responsibility to Native peoples, cultures, sovereignty, land, and dignity.
As an empire once tried to decide who belonged and who did not, so too have systems in our own story tried to draw lines around us:
Who belongs?
Whose land counts?
Whose spirituality is acceptable?
Whose grief is visible?
Whose voice matters?
Valentine’s witness asks a simple question:
When power narrows love, who protects the vulnerable?
CoNAM answers: We do.
When history is sanitized, who tells the truth?
We do.
When dignity is negotiated, who refuses to negotiate it?
We do.
This is love with strong roots.
But let us not forget this teaching:
The early Christians did not remember martyrs as tragic figures.
They remembered them because their spirits shone bright even in darkness.
They blessed under pressure.
They believed death did not get the last word.
Joy became their rebellion—a song that would not be silenced.
And Indigenous communities understand this deeply.
Joy has survived boarding schools.
Joy has survived relocation and erasure.
Joy has survived broken treaties and institutional neglect.
Our joy is not forgetting.
It is not denial.
It is endurance with song.
So when we gather as CoNAM, our joy is ancestral.
It speaks:
We are still here.
We are still speaking.
We are still loving.
This is love that cannot be uprooted.
This is a covenant carried from generation to generation.
This is the love Valentine’s memory invites us to practice.
Call to Action: Love That Moves
Relatives,
If Valentine’s witness means anything to us, it means this:
Love is not a feeling to admire from afar.
It is a practice—a path we choose to walk every day.
So we leave this Circle with commitments:
We will tell the truth, even when it complicates conversations.
We will protect the dignity of Native peoples wherever it is minimized.
We will interrupt dehumanizing language when we hear it.
We will educate where there is ignorance.
We will advocate against injustice.
We will create spaces where joy grows, even where systems expect despair.
Love does not sit still.
Love moves—like water finding its way.
This week:
Have one courageous conversation.
Correct one harmful narrative.
Affirm one Native voice publicly.
Create one moment of joy that strengthens the community.
This is how love takes root.
This is how love becomes action.
Prayer
Creator of Truth and Life,
We thank You for the witnesses who refused to shrink.
We thank You for the ancestors who taught anyway,
sang anyway,
loved anyway.
Give us love that is strong and kind.
Love that is brave and joyful.
Love that does not confuse silence with peace.
If we must speak hard truths, steady our voices.
If we must challenge systems, guard our hearts from bitterness.
If we must stand firm, let us stand together.
Let our joy be stubborn.
Let our courage be gentle.
Let our work be rooted in covenant and responsibility.
Could you remind us that love is not fragile?
Love is powerful.
Love is alive among us.
Amen.
Closing Blessing: Sent Out in Strength
Relatives,
May you leave this Circle lighter—not because the work is small,
But because you do not carry it alone.
May your spine be strong.
May your voice be steady.
May your laughter be loud.
May courage rise in you when silence tempts you.
May wisdom guide you when anger flares.
May joy surprise you in unexpected places.
You come from survivors.
You are not beginning this work—you are continuing it.
Go with brave love.
Walk with clear truth.
Carry joy that refuses to fade.
Fear does not get the last word.
Empire does not get the last word.
Silence does not get the last word.
Love does.
Walk in strength.
Walk in community.
Walk in joy.
So may it be.
Photo by Aziz Acharki on Unsplash