“Remember there’s no such thing as a small act of kindness. Every act creates a ripple with no logical end.” — Scott Adams
Every year around this time, heart-shaped candies and bouquets of red roses adorn the aisle ways of grocery stores and phrases like “Be Mine” are displayed in shop windows everywhere we look.
And every year around this time, we begin our search for the perfect gift to present to a loved one as a sign of affection because it’s Valentine’s Day. That’s what February 14th is all about, right?
“It’s not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.” ― Mother Teresa
The holiday season is truly a magical time of year. Snow dusts the ground, colorful lights line the rooftops. Bustling cities are transformed into modern winter wonderlands.
But the true beauty of the holidays lies in the spirit of giving. We know it can sometimes be difficult to find the perfect gift for the different personalities in your life. We all want to give our loved ones something to show we thought especially about them, something they will treasure, something to reveal how much we cherish them dearly.
“Beware the barrenness of a busy life.” — Socrates
Preparing for a trip recently, I found myself overwhelmed with an especially long to-do list.
As I plowed through each task, diligently checking off the completed items, it suddenly occurred to me that many activities I consider essential — the kind that make my heart glad — never get jotted down the way that stop the mail or water the plants do.
It was an evening in late September when I knew we were losing each other.
I knew we were forgetting. So I wrote. I wrote it all, I described every memory I had with him, laced with the most magical details. The nights we talked on the phone until sunrise, the secret promises we made in the drive-thru line, the summer days he carried me across the parking lot to get ice cream. I combed through my journal entries hoping I could find the moment — the moment it all started fading. As a hopeless romantic, a firm believer in fairytales and happy endings, I didn’t understand how the stars had become so scattered and desperately clung to the hope that I could put them back in line.
That night we sat on the kitchen counter eating takeout Indian food right up until our normal bedtime. When we began to yawn you loaded blankets and pillows into the truck and I made a pot of coffee with more beans than probably necessary.
We cozied into the front seat and sipped from our shared thermos, burning our lips on the edge. Your laughter kept wrapping around me like the warmth from a living room hearth. We listened to ‘90s hits and reminisced about high school and Pearl Jam albums. All the falling I’d been doing this year felt safely in the past as we drove.