Yesterday I saw a heartwarming social media picture (above) that I wanted to share. It’s of Chelsea, a family friend, smiling alongside her daughter, Emigh, in front of hundreds of cheerful flower bouquets they helped arrange for the second annual “Valentine’s Day Widow Outreach” in Charlotte, North Carolina.
The “Valentine’s Day Widow Outreach” event began in 2021 when florist Ashley Manning oversaw 121 floral deliveries to area widows, whose names were provided through Instagram friends. This year the event really blossomed, with at least 400 deliveries scheduled. Great job, Ashley. And thank you, Chels and Emigh, too, for volunteering to spread a little joy where it’s especially needed.
That’s how you love big.
Stories like the one above remind me that, depending on the stage of life we’re experiencing, our reactions to Valentine traditions will vary.
My own personal Valentine’s Day this year will be a lighthearted time to enjoy being spoiled with flowers and chocolates from my favorite guy of 40+ years. Rice and I will then ice the cake by spoiling our grandkids similarly.
Our granddaughter’s almost four. She’s enamored with Elsa and Anna and Olaf. I can already see her eyes shining big when she receives our little Valentine gift this afternoon. Our grandson? He’s almost ten. He groused for a week about exchanging Valentines with classmates, and the care he put into making his Valentine box was amazing. And by amazing, I mean he grabbed an ugly old shoebox and a box cutter, cut a slot where cards can be inserted, and voila, his box was ready to go. Yes, he’ll enjoy receiving candy alongside his sister this afternoon. But his expression of gratitude will be different than hers. It will likely remind us he is in fourth grade and already too cool for school.
I guess there are different ways to love big?
Once upon a time, the Rice family loved big by sending out annual greetings, usually to commemorate the New Year. I hadn’t thought about that tradition for years until a visit with Colorado friends last fall. During that visit, our friend Helen pulled out a New Year’s card we’d sent in the 1990s. (Talk about loving big, she saved it!) It got me thinking, maybe the time had come to get on it again. So here we are, 2022-style (above). Loving big again. Sending you Valentine’s greetings, my friend.
My 2022 Valentine’s greetings caper has turned out to be bittersweet. As I searched online for old friends’ addresses, I was shocked in some cases to discover obituaries instead. So many had passed away. An acquaintance from elementary school...a former co-worker...a former co-worker’s spouse...a couple old church buddies from back in our “Young Couples Club” days...friends we once knew in college.
Granted, I’m old enough that I shouldn’t be shocked when an occasional peer passes on. Still, I am. Maybe what stuns me more is how random it all seems. A 90-year-old matriarch outlives her children while a 40-year-old father of teens passes away. But if life is random, death is often even more so. None of us knows when our last breath will come.
So love big.
Not gonna lie, loving big comes with its own bittersweet P.S. The deeper we love, the more intensely we hurt when our heart gets broken. And inevitably, hearts get broken. We can try to mend them, but, of course, they’ll be broken again. The cycle repeats. On our worst days, we might wonder why we keep trying.
I don’t know the answer, but I suspect it’s tied to loving big. Something has to fill those cracks in our broken hearts. Why not let it be light and love?
This past week, writer Mary Kay Andrews lost her 39-year-old daughter, Katie. In her grief, she shared something lovely on social media that struck a deep chord. She said, “People keep asking what they can do for me. Katie would say, find someone who needs a hug or a sandwich or a smile. Be kind.”
In other words, carry on. Love big.
Hugs ~ J
