Valentine's Day is just around the corner, and in light of that, I've been contemplating writing a blog. Historically, my take on V Day has tended to be a cynical one. I usually scoff at the endless commercials for diamond jewelry, boxes of chocolate wrapped in gold foil, and dozens of long stem roses-the typical objects a man uses to express his affections toward a woman on V Day. Do I think it's ridiculous that society has chosen one day a year to express "love" through objects? Yes. Did I secretly want a man to give me diamonds, chocolate, and roses on V Day? Yes. Did it happen? No.
Insert sad song here.
Just kidding. You probably thought I'd spend the rest of this blog weaving a tale of woe, but I've decided to tell a better tale. It's the story of a paper heart.
It was 7:28 on a Thursday evening, and she walked into the food pantry with her dad. I didn't recognize her. Or him. This must have been their first time. I copied down the name and address from his drivers license and handed him a white piece of paper that listed the food items the pantry typically carries. Cereal, granola bars, pasta, peanut butter and jelly... This was the first Thursday of the month, which is the day my church community group serves at a local food pantry. We've been serving there for over six months, and it's been both a challenging and amazing experience. Challenging, because we see the faces of poverty and run around for 3 hours in a hot kitchen stuffing grocery bags with food and sometimes have picky clients who insist on particular kinds of canned soup. Amazing, because we're learning the names of the people we serve and have been able to build relationships with some of the clients and have seen God at work in and through us. We've been praying for more "God moments" at the pantry, and we've been getting them.
He finished checking off the items that he wanted, and I handed the list to a fellow volunteer to fill the order. I've assumed the role of check-in coordinator, so I'm usually the one at the kitchen window taking down names and keeping the paperwork organized while others fill the orders in the back. Rather than taking a seat at one of the available tables, they both stood near the counter, waiting for their order to be completed. I make attempts to strike up conversations with clients as much as possible, and this evening was no different than any other. I started talking with the girl. She had long brown hair, brown eyes, and a shy disposition. I found out that her name is Faith. She's 9 and is in the 3rd grade. We chatted for a couple of minutes- about her favorite subjects and such- and then I handed them two paper bags full of food. They thanked me and said goodbye. I carried on with organizing paperwork.
About 3 minutes after they walked out of the pantry, she came walking back into the room with a smile on her face and something in her hand. It was a paper heart. This paper heart.
She handed it to me and said she had made it in school for Valentines Day. She wanted me to have it. I took it from her hand and stared at the masterpiece I had been handed, amazed. I told her it was beautiful and thanked her with an even bigger smile on my face. She said she'd bring more next time and walked out. I held the paper heart in my hand, the muscle heart in my chest about as full as it could be. Such a special gift. It wasn't fancy or expensive, but it was genuine, and it was full of love.
There are different kinds of love, and all are amazing in their own ways. Valentines Day focuses on a specific kind- the kind that so many of us are seeking. I was shown another kind of love that Thursday evening, and it was exactly the kind that I needed that day. I think that paper heart reflected a piece of God's heart- an illustration of His goodness. And really, it doesn't get much better than that, no matter how dark the chocolate or red the roses may be.
