TJ Hirst

When I married my husband, we both agreed that we didn’t need a holiday to tell us when or how to express our love to each other. After a few years without extra romance on Valentine’s Day, however, I sensed that I was the loser in my opinionated stand against the candy, card and flower industry. I softened that stand and have since given and received thoughtful expressions of love on that day and others. Now, I may be hardening my heart, again, toward this holiday with the current trends in Valentine’s giving amongst elementary school-age children.

When I was in elementary school, we distributed our valentines into foil-covered boxes decorated with paper doilies and construction paper hearts. We anticipated opening those identical white envelopes to read the messages from our friends and to see if we received a surprise candy heart or two. While this is probably nostalgia for the “rosy-age” of elementary-school Valentine’s parties, the focus did seem to be on our feelings for each other.

When my oldest daughter was in first grade, eight years ago, I noticed the change. While cards were still a part of the celebration, candy dominated. She came home with as many bite-size candy bars as she did on Halloween.

Now, my third grader and fifth grader are preparing for this year’s celebration. At the grocery store a couple weeks ago, I rejected the sorry selection of Bratz cards. Then, I found a crafty idea. But, it just didn’t say 10-year-old boy. I finally made it to an unnamed super center and walked up and down the seasonal display aisles looking for the usual boxes of 24 cards. When I couldn’t find any, I discovered the real truth—the card is now right on the candy. We seem to have left the cards altogether and now just give the candy.

So, my daughter ended up making construction paper cards and attaching lollipops to them. And my son? He said this, “I’m not going to bother even writing the names on mine since it’s just candy anyway.”

I said, “Please bother.”

And then he gave me a Valentine when he said, “I’ll write them tonight,” and my heart softened again.

“Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?”

I baked bread in the evening for my family. It didn’t finish cooling until just before I went to sleep, so I was standing in the kitchen in my robe and slippers at 10:15 packaging bread into bags. Of the four loaves, I would put three in the freezer and keep one out for making school lunches in the morning. My friend M came to mind. I was going to her house the next day and the thought came that I could bring a loaf to her.

But another thought came into my mind, disagreeing with this one. “No, that’s not necessary. Besides, then you would need to make bread, again, sooner,” it said. This mental flip flop consistently occurs as I make choices, even though I usually always end up following the thought that inspired my ideas in the first place.

Finally, I quieted the contradictory thoughts in my head and just set aside a loaf for her, reasoning, “Even if there was no reason to bring one, everyone likes to be remembered. I can make bread again soon.”

I had tightly scheduled the next day, especially in the afternoon, with some returns to make, the visit to M’s, children to pick up and a stop at the grocery store. Normally, at the end of days like these I am worn out and feel depleted. However, that morning, I found time to prepare myself for later. My youngest sister called unexpectedly, but I was able to make dinner ahead during her call, saving myself the work after I got home in the afternoon.

I arrived at M’s house right on time and rang the doorbell. Her children let me in, and I quickly realized that she was sick. She had been sleeping and seemed feverish to the touch when I hugged her. Although she was embarrassed to be “caught”, she settled herself into a big chair and wrapped up in blankets with a slice of the bread, some butter and a cup of herb tea. We had a wonderful heartfelt conversation like true friends.

Had the bread been necessary for all that? No, but it created a setting for both of us to recognize the core of friendship: generosity of self and spirit.

Generosity prompts us to cheer for a friend who gets to take a nap (or has any success, even if we aren’t currently having one). It is seeing beauty in each other even when we are rumpled. Generosity closes our eyes to the crumbs on the counter or dirty dishes and opens them to the joy of being in a friend’s home. It freely allows us to not think less of each other (or not retain feelings of embarrassment for our humanity and imperfection). Generosity opens our mouth to uplift and encourage. Most of all, generosity overcomes our thoughts of self.

Thank you, M; you helped me answer the question this day.

Generous: adj. 1. Liberal in giving or sharing. 2. Characterized by nobility and forbearance in thought or behavior; magnanimous. 3. Marked by abundance; ample.