Best Valentine's Day in Five Years

February 14, 2008, Day's End.

My heart is full of warm, mushy memories of the past day and a half. As I've said before, Valentine's Day ranks second to Christmas in my short list of favorite holidays. Some years it ranks above Christmas. This may be such a year.

Why so good this year ? Many reasons. My long-awaited, much-prayed for child turned six today. Together we made a Lego cake yesterday. Knowing that we'd be one sibling shy of a family birthday celebration tonight, we planned the fest for last night. Yesterday afternoon Joel and I started the cake together--consisting of a 13x9 cake , a loaf pan size cake, and 6 cupcakes. while he was beside me on a kitchen chair, he gave me a big hug and inhaled deeply.
"Mmm, Mom, you smell so good!"
I beamed, "Do I? What do I smell like?"
"Butter," he said. "You smell like butter." (Next time I'll skip the fragrance counter at Macy's and head right to Food Lion to get the Scent of a Woman. ) I cherished his hugs and looks of sheer love while we cracked eggs and stirred batter. It occurred to me more than once that he soon won't need the chair and maybe won't enjoy the cake making like he does right now. Carpe diem.

Every Valentine's Day I've had a tradition: before the kids are out of bed, I put a small box of chocolates, a card, one dollar, and a pencil at their place at the table. Last night I couldn't find the bag of cards! I found Ben's but it was because I'd bought it a different store. I was panicked. I prayed, God gave me a peace as I fell asleep that I'd find them before the kids awoke. I did. The one dollar got upsized this year; reality is Ben and Sarah can't even get a soda on campus for a buck.

Joel had his good friend Caleb over to play today. They are both still at the age when it's okay to hug and smile at each other with foreheads together. To see Joel's eyes twinkle, to hear him say when their play time is up, "Don't go home! Stay till it's a teeny weeny bit dark out!" is so precious to me.

My husband brought red roses last night to both Sarah and me. He is really maturing in his understanding of our love for flowers. Well, maybe not understanding why, but just getting them anyway and knowing it's as unexplainable as why he likes to watch football games every Sunday. Passion transcends reason. Tonight he gave me a card whose words I do not deserve.

Ben, my eldest, came home earlier than I expected, bearing a beautiful bouquet and a box of Good 'n Plenty (my favorite). "These are for you, Mom. I love you." And he stooped waaaay down and put an arm around me with a smile. Melt my heart! I asked him later where he got the money for them.
"I used the money you gave me."
"That was supposed to go into your tank!" I said.

Stephen's actions made me cry tears of joy. Every year at his small Christian high school, the guys pitch in to buy roses (one for each girl). A week ago four of the girls were expelled, shrinking his senior class size from 5 to 3. When Stephen told me, there were tears in his eyes. He was visibly grieved over their sin, though he knew not exactly what it was. When I asked yesterday how many roses he needed, he first said 17, then said 21. Today after school he delivered them (I was with him because he still has a learner's permit) to the expelled girls' homes. I waited and watched from inside the van as my blue-eyed blonde 16-year old prince in a starch white shirt and navy pants carried twin roses to the door of each set of sisters. The first pair hugged him and one of the girls was about to cry. The second set were not home. No one was. He left the flowers and a note on their porch. Tears ran down my cheeks. This is grace. This is love. This is how to treat one another, I said to myself. "Thank You, God, for Your love that is so clearly seen through Stephen."

While I was out with my son, my father came by OUR porch and left chocolates and a card (for Sarah and me). The card made me cry so hard the boys noticed. Daddy writes, "Dear Zoanna--You are precious! You honor me just by being who you are." Joel asked why I was crying. "Because," I choked. "I don't know how many more years I'll get valentines from Pappaw." There was a gift for Joel, too--a drawing pad and some pirouines in the portable green mailbox Joel made. They pass it back and forth secretly (run to the other's porch and drive off) filled with tokens of love. I'm also painfully aware that Pappaw and Ima won't always be around to see their Valentine grandson celebrate his birthday.

This evening I took a bowl of hot water and Pine Sol (love that smell!) and washed all the baseboards in the kitchen/foyer/up the steps and all the doors in the path. I was dying to clean baseboards. I must be pregnant. (NO, I'm not. That would take an act of God of the reversal type.) Paul loves the smell of cleaning solutions the way Joel loves the smell of butter. Eau de Pine Sol makes him amorous, but poor guy is coming down with a cold.

I packed some care packages for female airmen, female marines and some soldiers today. Call it OCD, but I love to fill these boxes with goodies they've requested. Mail call is the highlight of their day, their week, their tour. Tonight I watched a short movie, "The Book and the Rose," that confirmed that what the recipients feel is tenfold greater than the joy I feel in sending them.

I thank my God upon every remembrance of this year's Valentine's Day.