We gave the kids photo books today, one for each of them. Starting with baby pictures, their individual collections have a few photos from each year of their lives. These were their Valentines. As they looked at their pictures they remembered joyfully, happily... how much they're loved, by so many people. Dan and I wrote on the back of their collections - words from both of us - words of encouragement, reminding them how much we appreciate them.
I received a card from Mr J. "Happy Valentines Day. A Mushroom. Mummy. You are the best. Love Mr J." My little boy, who sees the world so differently from most of us.
They each opened cards from Grammy and Grandpa, these pieces of exciting paper: American-style Valentines, so fun for them.
We ate cream of tomato soup. Beetroot, carrot, and coriander salad. Hummus and homemade pitta bread. Mr J ate everything, even the beetroot salad. Happy Valentine's Day to me.
I thought about how routine all of this is, somehow. Homemade food. Trying to think of kind words to give to each other. So much of this we do already, every day. As beneficial as it is to have a special day to remember love, every moment of every day is really nothing but a joyful yet painful struggle to remember love, to walk in it.
"Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair."
-G K Chesterton