Freewheeling Blog: Thanks for the Candy

As Valentine's Day approaches, and I start pondering how to celebrate the holiday, my mind wanders back to a Valentine's Day in seventh grade.

When I moved to a new town in sixth grade and started middle school, I met "Daisy." To me, she was so pretty and smart. Quickly, I figured out that in our small class in this tiny town, she was the smartest girl, and I was the smartest boy. It only made sense for us to be together, right?

That spring, Daisy accepted my offer of becoming her boyfriend. But she came back the next day and broke up with me without explanation. Maybe her parents told her she was too young, or she simply had second thoughts. I was crushed.

I backed off but kept the hope alive Daisy would come around. We danced together a lot at a middle school dance the next fall. The music turned to a slow dance song, and we pulled each other tight. For some reason, I put my chin on her shoulder. I thought it was my chin. Daisy asked, "Are you biting me?" I looked down and realized my teeth were actually on her shoulder. I said, "Why yes, I believe I am," then tried to wipe the drool off her powder blue sweatshirt. Such a Romeo I was!

When Valentine's Day rolled around in seventh grade, I bought a heart-shaped box of assorted chocolates, wrote her a love letter, and sneaked the gifts into her school locker. And waited. Nothing. Well, no response from her. For the rest of middle school, her friends would tease me by quoting from the love letter. One told me Daisy put the chocolates in her fridge and let them rot.

So, that was the end of pining for Daisy. I moved on to other candidates. When I became the quarterback on the football team and point guard on the basketball team in eighth grade, a sweet, moon-eyed sixth grader came along, and we became a couple. At least, until I moved out of town before ninth grade.

Fast forward about twenty years. Our family visited the tiny town when my dad's former church held a reunion. On a whim, I called Daisy, now a married mother, from our motel room. We had a nice chat and caught up on what had happened to our classmates.

Fast forward some more. When Facebook became popular, I looked up Daisy again. We exchanged messages, touching base, when suddenly Daisy sent a message that stopped me cold.

"Did I ever thank you for the candy?"

It was as if something whooshed right through my heart. All my seventh grade disappointment and embarrassment swelled up again. I steadied myself and typed back, "No. But we were middle schoolers, blah blah blah," excusing her behavior.

She responded, "Thank you for the candy. I think about it every Valentine's Day."

I was almost moved to tears. Expressing her thanks and regret, Daisy gave me the closure I didn't know I needed. A hurt that had always been there was healed.

Becoming friends, Daisy and I communicated frequently through Facebook for a few years until she suddenly died of a stroke. I was so grateful she had taken the opportunity to thank me for the candy.

Valentine's Day is about love. Sometimes, it's about puppy love. Sometimes, it's about love that heals, reaches out, makes things right while it still can. May we all find numerous ways to love well this Valentine's Day and always.

You can read my blogs at CecilTaylorMinistries.com/blog. Read them all, including my Seven-Day Practical Faith blog, or filter on Freewheeling blogs.