I’d been a widow for eight years. I was used to being alone on Valentine’s Day. Or so I thought, until I woke up feeling blue.
Before my feet even hit the floor I said to God, I don’t have anyone to love me this year. I really need a Valentine. I mean the works. Roses, a card and dinner out tonight. But no chocolates, please. I’m trying to diet.
By the time I’d had my coffee I felt more like myself. I went to work, my prayer forgotten. Then I found a giant Valentine’s Day card taped to my office door.
“We wanted to let you know how much we love you,” friends had written. It’s just a coincidence, I thought. A card was easy enough to come by on Valentine’s Day.
Late that afternoon my friend Sue called. “John and I want to take you out tonight,” she said. “We’ve spent lots of Valentine’s Days on our own. This year we want to treat you.” They’d already made dinner reservations at my favorite restaurant.
A card and dinner–wow! That was two out of three. Maybe it wasn’t a miracle, but I put on a nice outfit that evening and drove to the restaurant feeling pretty blessed.
I arrived a few minutes early. The place was jam-packed. I couldn’t even see whoever it was making his way through the crowd, just the big bouquet he was holding. A dozen red roses all for some lucky woman–me?
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” John said, reaching me at last. Sue gave me a hug. The three of us sat down at our table and I told them about my prayer. “The Lord gave me everything I asked for: a card, dinner and roses. I feel so loved.”
I touched my bouquet again. “What about you, Sue?” I asked. “Did John get you get anything special?”
“A gorgeous box of chocolates,” she said with a smile. “But don’t even ask–I’m not sharing!”
