I thought a lot about Valentine’s Day when I got up this morning. Mostly about grade school valentine boxes that were placed in the front of the room for all our valentines. At some later class we made our own. I didn’t like that because there it sat on your desk–waiting for someone to drop in a valentine–in front of everyone. It was sad for some who received only a few.
I always took vs enough for my whole class as my mother advised. It was agonizing to find just the right ones for some of my class–not too mushy–funny if possible for the boys.
As a teenager I hoped for a heart-shaped box of candy–a special sign of love. When I did receive one, I hid it from my mother for fear of her objections. I was not allowed to date yet.
Over the years, V Day meant different things at different times. My husband and I had little money to spare–but he never forgot–he often stopped on the way home from work at a local drugstore and found his valentine for me. A couple times, he wrote his own, and I’m happy to have saved them. I received flowers on my 10th anniversary and once on V Day when I was out of town working. Memories I will always cherish.
In our later years I was encouraged to buy what pleased me. “If you want flowers, we’ll get them.” But I’ll never forget the love in those handwritten lines.
There is so much hype over this day. I wonder how many people are sad, grieving, or heavy-hearted today. I wish all the love in the world to reach each of them. Turn the day around and give love to others. Maybe you should call your friend, your family member, that person at church who always seems alone. It may mean a lot to one person and there is much joy in the giving of joy.