First, you have to go to the Such a Pretty Bubble blog and see the "Liturgically Correct Vintage Valentine's Day" card that blogger Charlotte was given by a Baptist friend.
Now, I know the reason Charlotte says this is a liturgically correct vintage Valentine's Day card: because the little girl is wearing a veil. Like a chapel veil. Lacey, with scalloped edges.
But in reality, is that a chapel veil on her head? She doesn't appear to be at Mass. Her head is not bowed, her eyes are not closed, her hands are clasping a garishly-large lace-decorated heart instead of being correctly folded (flat palms only, people! None of this "here is the church, here is the steeple" nonsense). It's just barely possible that she's getting ready to go to Mass, but if so, why is she clasping that card? Does she have a crush on one of the altar boys, and is she really so lost as to all sense of propriety as to present herself at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass toting such an obviously flirtatious message, which would be as ill-timed as it would be shocking to the most-likely oblivious young man who is the darling of her childish heart?
Let us, in charity, admit that this is not even remotely possible for a young lady skilled in the art of chapel-veiling (hey, if other people can make it a verb, so can I, even if verbing weirds words).
Unfortunately, this leads us to an even less wholesome speculation: the young lady is borrowing either an oversize antimacassar or a table runner or, perhaps, a mantle-scarf in order to present herself to her pint-sized sweetheart in the visage of a bride.
"Be mine," she seems to say with that demure blushing expression, "and accept this pretty paper heart I made you. Oh, and in exactly sixteen years twelve days and four hours when I turn twenty-one I expect you to meet me at the altar of St. Ubiquitous the Unwavering to join me in the state of Holy Matrimony, at which point I will embark on the sacred duty of making sure you get to heaven, even if that means running your life in every painful detail from that day forward, till death do us part."
What could any high-spirited little boy do except take to his heels and run for the hills? Unless, of course, his mother and hers are watching and think it's cute, at which point he'll have to turn bright red, take the card, mutter something unintelligible, and go hide in his room until she gets a crush on somebody else or he graduates from college, whichever happens first.
In fact, even if the girl of the card loses interest in him, I imagine the object of her affection seriously courting some other young lady some day, and even thinking about popping the question, only to have her tilt her head and blush in just that exact same way, such that the "run for your life!" reaction comes first and sober reflection later.
Which is why I officially declare this to be the Scariest Valentine's Day Card Ever. Gentlemen readers, you are welcome.