When I was in elementary school, I couldn’t wait for Valentine’s Day. Selecting and addressing cards, turning a shoebox into a heart-plastered “mailbox,” delivering valentines to my classmates — I loved every activity leading up to this holiday.
When the big day came we tore open the envelopes, examined our cards, and read the names of the friends who had chosen them. Sometimes there was even a hand-written message above the signature. My personal favorite: “I like you. Do you like me? Check yes or no.” Followed, of course, by two little square boxes awaiting my choice.
Fast-forward to the teenage years, when valentine cards seemed only for “sweethearts.” During this emotional era, I often felt like the holiday didn’t even apply to me.
Occasionally though, a connection with someone special sent me to the Hallmark store, where I searched diligently for the perfect card. It had to be meaningful, but casual. Definitely not mushy. The printed message was important, but even more critical was the personal note I would compose and write before signing my name. How I agonized, choosing those words!
Umpteen years and Valentine’s Days have now come and gone. These days my favorite part of the season is sending valentines to our grandchildren. I head to the Dollar Tree (hands down, best prices for cards), carefully consider which design might appeal to each child, and make my purchases.
At home, I get busy writing those personal notes.
The older two grandchildren are in college. I wish them well with their classes and fun times with their friends. To the kindergartner, I comment on her recent loss of two teeth; I mention the 3-year-old’s progress on her Strider bike.
I go ahead and sign. “We love you — Grammy and Poppy.”
But there is so much more I want to write in that space above the signature.
I want to remind my grandchildren about God’s infinite love, his priceless gift of Jesus. I want them to understand that of all the spiritual gifts, love is not only the most excellent but the most available. I want them to freely give and receive love, to make love the wellspring from which all their actions and interactions flow.
I even wish I could write out the blessing I offer each night on their behalf: “May they be safe and free from danger. May they have health, joy, ease of well being, and peace. May they be loving and kind, honest and respectful. And may they always know how much they’re loved.”
But alas, the space is limited, as is their attention and understanding.
So I seal, address, stamp, and finally mail the cards to my grandchildren.
The messages I did not write are instead my heartfelt prayers for them… not just on Valentine’s Day, but all the days of their lives.
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