I have wonderful children. No, really, they’re amazing.

Even from a very young age, they were always placing the needs of others before their own. And, I never had to force it either – no menacing glares from across the table, no idle threats to take away all of their toys…rather, this generosity of spirit seemed to permeate every aspect of their being.

My daughter was, and still very much is, the ‘peacekeeper’ of the family. Her pursuit of fairness and justice is unshakeable – and her beautiful heart, the very embodiment of equanimity.

While my son, on the other hand, seemed destined to let the whole world know it was loved.

I remember one Valentine’s Day, in particular. I spent the day making a beautiful dinner – with roasted vegetables braised in a winter’s stew, and hot bread just pulled from the oven. Oh, and the table was so perfectly adorned – with a checked gingham linen, and stemmed glasses which were double washed.

I put a lot of effort into that dinner, but more so – I had placed the value of my heart.

As the clock ticked away into the fading evening hours, I knew ‘he’ had forgotten. It wasn’t until the next day that he finally meandered in ~ the ‘remnants’ of the night before, still prominently displayed.

“Hey, what’s for dinner,” he chirped, without ever missing a beat.

Well, you can imagine the conversation that ensued. Suffice to say, it was my first glimpse into the ‘heart’ of a very cruel man.

“I’m glad it made you sad,” he said, “because, you don’t deserve a Valentine’s day.”

You know, at some point in his life, he learned that words could be used as a sharpened sword….instead of the means to carry compassion forward.

Needless to say, I was crushed in that moment. The very thought, that I wasn’t good enough…or, didn’t deserve the love…well, it was almost too much for this little heart to handle.

I fled to my bedroom, where – with face shoved to pillow – I cried for nearly 3 hours.

Around 6 o’clock that evening – there was a tiny tapping at my door.

“Mommy come look what I made for you!!”

There standing in the portal of my room, was a huffing, puffing, red-faced, snow-covered little boy. He took me by the hand and led me to the window, where I could see just as plain as day – a ‘hand written’ message carved in the snow.

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY MOMMY – I LOVE YOU!”

He must have spent all day moving those heavy piles of snow around. His legs were encased in a thick blanket of winter white, and his mittens were well beyond that ‘soggy mess’ stage.

It was truly a labor of love – something, far surpassing what any card or flowers might bring.

And, he did it for just one reason alone – he did for the purpose of love.

I don’t know why this story has come to mind recently – perhaps a dose of sentimentality, a rush of remembrance as the morning tea settles in.

But, what if it’s intended for a much greater reason? Something, as of yet – unseen? A manifestation of a ‘ripple’ started so many years ago?

I’m reminded of Buddhist prayer, if you wouldn’t mind indulging me: