February 14th

I love Valentine's Day.

I love the flowers. I love the candy. I love the chocolate covered strawberries. I love deep, sparkly reds and fresh, glowing pinks. I love kisses and hugs and I love you's. I love homemade and store bought paper Valentines. And I love the way the holiday sort of colors everything you see. Like that old song, La Vie En Rose, that talks about seeing life through rose colored glasses. I don't mean just that things are cheery and happy, but that everything looks a bit pinkish and that my perception of simple things I see becomes packed with meaning.

I drove into Provo today (commissioned by my loving father) to pick up and drop off some flowers for my sisters. Hudson and I stopped at the Orem Harmon's to get some dainty bouquets of orange, yellow, pink, and peach roses and a magazine for each sister as well. I picked up a little potted primrose for myself. I really couldn't resist. Primroses, after daisies, are the sweetest flowers and their smell is simply intoxicating. The cashier, who was resplendent in a suit and rose and baby's breath boutonniere, told me my baby boy was charming (very astute of him) and offered him a free balloon. Hudson was tickled pink at the bright red balloon tied to his wrist and waved his arm around gleefully.

When I was on University Avenue almost to my sisters' apartment I saw a man, perhaps 60 years old with gray hair and lanky build, standing on a street corner holding a bouquet wrapped in purple tissue paper. Any other day I might not have even noticed him, but today he caught my eye and I wondered if he were a professor who was rushing home to his adoring wife or maybe a visiting father bringing flowers to his beloved daughter.

Hudson and I played the piano at my sisters' apartment and I sang him love songs while he twirled with his red balloon. I talked to Brandon while he was on his lunch break. We called each other pet names and he told me to be excited for the beautiful flowers he had for me. I listened to my sisters' respective plans for the night and walked back to my car with my bundle of joy nestled safely in my arms. I saw busy students walking home or up to campus, sometimes with secret smiles on their faces. Others with a drag in their step and annoyed expressions. Few people are apathetic on Valentine's day.

To me, every thing, person, and action seems infused with special meaning today. I saw an elderly man jogging and I assumed he must be trying to stay healthy for his loved ones. I witnessed a boy racing down my neighborhood sidewalk and I imagined he must be rushing to confess his love to the girl with the pretty curls who lives down the block. On Valentine's Day, love exclusively becomes the source of motivation.

One thing I saw today made me so sad that I had to turn off the happy-go-lucky music I was singing along to in the car on the way back home while Hudson dozed off in the back. We drove by a cemetery and I saw one solitary car parked by the curb and a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, walking towards a grave with a small bunch of flowers clasped in his hand. His expression was solemn and his step seemed heavy. Any other day I might have thought he was visiting a grandmother or great-uncle. Someone who's passing was sad but timely and not tragic.

I don't have and never will have any idea who that man was or why he was visiting a grave on this particular day, but thanks to him I will hug my son and my husband a little tighter tonight and thank my Heavenly Father that I have them in my life. Safe and sound and healthy and mine.

Yesterday in primary I told the kids I loved Valentine's day. The girls in frilly dresses colored with pink and red hearts agreed with me enthusiastically while the "older boys" rolled their eyes and shook their heads. I challenged them to show someone who looked lonely today some friendliness and love and they promised they would. One of the skeptics asked worriedly if they had to hug the person. I assured him that no hugging would be necessary.

I love love. A professor of child development at BYU whose class I took years ago and who is now in my stake and gave a fireside for my ward's Relief Society the other night spoke about orphans in Romania and how they are so desperate for love, acceptance, touch and care. I cried then when I heard him speak and I cry now just thinking about them. Pure, unselfish, and Christlike love gives life. It strengthens and cheers. It heals and comforts. We really can't have too much. So let's all give a lotta love to anybody and everybody we can.

Happy Valentine's Day.