The package comes the day before Valentine's Day. My oldest son's neat, tidy handwriting is on the mailer. Zay and I have gone to the mailbox, and when he sees the package, he jumps up and down in winter slush.
"Does it shake?" he asks as I pull the mailer from the mailbox.
I hand him the package. He shakes it. It does.
"It's the heart candy," Zay says. And with that, he's gone. "Brothers," he yells as he slushes his way up the drive."The package from Logan is here!"
A moment later, he's down the stairs, across the patio, and into the house.
Logan buys boxes of conversation hearts for the family every year. The tradition started when he was very small. Back then he was just a tiny boy with a dollar from the tooth fairy. But he held the tradition, and even now, from college, he sends the Valentine candy. When the boys rip the package open, they'll find his handwriting on individual boxes. The writing has changed over the years.
But the giving has not.
I make my way to the house and I find exactly what I'm expecting. The boys have opened the package, and they're at the dining room table. Colorful hearts are scattered across the surface.
I luv you.
Sometimes the smallest things speak love in the biggest ways.
Lord, help me to love someone in a big way today, too. Amen.