Last February 1, I asked my three grandchildren what their current favourite candies were. Teenagers Jenessa, Daniel and Grace knew about my penchant for gift-giving and loved my tradition of showering them with sweets on Valentine’s Day. Grace even made a list and taped it on my fridge.

Shattered Dreams

But their mother, our daughter, Marie, didn’t share the kids’ enthusiasm.

“I detest Valentine’s Day,” she grumbled. “Standing at my checkout station and ringing up bouquets of roses, romantic cards and heart-shaped boxes of chocolate makes me want to cry, scream or both.”

I wasn’t surprised at Marie’s outburst. Or her feelings. Only a year before, Marie had endured a painful divorce after praying and struggling for 15 years to save her marriage. She worked at a superstore now to keep a roof over her kids’ heads and food on the table.

I could understand why seeing signs of couples in love would remind Marie of her recent loss.

To add to her distress, Kevin’s and my anniversary was on Valentine’s Day. We always celebrated big (remember my love of gift-giving) with supper in a classy restaurant and lots of presents. But how could we celebrate now, on year 45 of our wedding day, without reminding Marie of all her shattered dreams?

Hiding Our Happiness

“Let’s not talk around Marie about our fancy supper or what gifts we bought each other this year,” I told Kevin. He agreed to downplay our usual celebration. We’d just give her and the kids their candies and go on with our lives. And ask God to fill the empty place in Marie’s heart with His love. A love that would never walk away.

We shouldn’t have been shocked at His quick answer.

On the Sunday before Valentine’s Day, we invited Marie and the kids over for lunch. As they filed through the back door, Marie handed each of us a bright red gift bag.

“Happy anniversary!” she said, her smile gleaming. Both bags held thoughtful gifts she knew we’d like. A classical-music CD, chocolates and a DVD on the Second World War for Kevin. A “Cats Rule” mug, gourmet jelly beans and purple socks for me.

“Oh, honey, how sweet of you!” I said. “We didn’t expect all this.” Kevin nodded.

“But it’s your anniversary,” Marie chirped. “After 45 years, you guys deserve life-sized trophies! I wish I could afford those, but these will have to do.”

Genuine joy shone in her face.

Just Like Jesus

My eyes burned with unshed tears as I opened my arms to our daughter. Kevin joined us for a group hug. We realized what a sacrifice Marie had made to set aside her grief and share in our happiness. A sweet reflection of Jesus. I recalled when Jesus told His followers, “The reason My Father loves Me is that I lay down My life—only to take it up again. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of My own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again” (John 10:17-18).

Jesus chose to come to our world as a human and give Himself on our behalf, so we could join God’s family. Everything He did, even to His torturous death and glorious Resurrection, was with us in mind.

Because His very nature is love. Giving, unselfish love.

Better than chocolate. Better than purple socks. Jesus—the perfect valentine.

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