It’s funny how, after years of finding ourselves part of the most sophisticated events our world has to
offer, one thing people of all levels of life seem likely to remember best are grade school class parties
that marked two particular holidays of the year. Halloween and Valentine’s Day.
Everybody I know, for instance, remembers the school Halloween party with its outlandish costumes
and the march from classroom to classroom to show them off. There were games and candied apples
and donuts and glasses of cider. There was trick-or-treating up and down the neighborhood and bags of
good things to sort when you got home.
Valentine’s Day was something else, however. This was supposed to be the feast of love, they told us. It
was supposed to be a very happy time. But, as often as not, it left in its wake a good many sorrowing
children. My mother had a rule: “If you’re not giving every child in your class a valentine,” she said,
“you’re not giving any.” So on Valentine’s Day we all came into class and passed out all the little cut-
out cards we’d so painfully signed. Then you sat down and counted yours.
The problem was that some kids didn’t give cards to everyone. The popular kids got most of them. This
was supposed to be a love feast but there never seemed to be enough love to go around.
Even at that age, we all knew what it meant to be loved, to be taken in, to be accepted, to be valued,
to be wanted, to have a friend. And however many valentines we did or did not get, we learned young
that not having a real friend made life painful. Having a real friend made life special. Made life possible.
One thing we know for sure: Not all relationships last—for one reason or other—but all relationships are
lasting. Even the ones that have hurt us the most leave a lasting impression on our lives. Sometimes
especially the ones that have hurt us the most.
But the loves that shape us come in many forms: Maybe it will be someone who mentored us as we
grew. Maybe it will be a love that ended. Maybe it will be a marriage that lasts beyond its years. Maybe
it will be a love that dies too soon. Maybe it will be the companion who goes with us down every valley,
up every mountain of our lives.
All we know as we get older is that it’s not the number of valentines we get that count. It’s the ones
that last that make all the difference in the end.
offer, one thing people of all levels of life seem likely to remember best are grade school class parties
that marked two particular holidays of the year. Halloween and Valentine’s Day.
Everybody I know, for instance, remembers the school Halloween party with its outlandish costumes
and the march from classroom to classroom to show them off. There were games and candied apples
and donuts and glasses of cider. There was trick-or-treating up and down the neighborhood and bags of
good things to sort when you got home.
Valentine’s Day was something else, however. This was supposed to be the feast of love, they told us. It
was supposed to be a very happy time. But, as often as not, it left in its wake a good many sorrowing
children. My mother had a rule: “If you’re not giving every child in your class a valentine,” she said,
“you’re not giving any.” So on Valentine’s Day we all came into class and passed out all the little cut-
out cards we’d so painfully signed. Then you sat down and counted yours.
The problem was that some kids didn’t give cards to everyone. The popular kids got most of them. This
was supposed to be a love feast but there never seemed to be enough love to go around.
Even at that age, we all knew what it meant to be loved, to be taken in, to be accepted, to be valued,
to be wanted, to have a friend. And however many valentines we did or did not get, we learned young
that not having a real friend made life painful. Having a real friend made life special. Made life possible.
One thing we know for sure: Not all relationships last—for one reason or other—but all relationships are
lasting. Even the ones that have hurt us the most leave a lasting impression on our lives. Sometimes
especially the ones that have hurt us the most.
But the loves that shape us come in many forms: Maybe it will be someone who mentored us as we
grew. Maybe it will be a love that ended. Maybe it will be a marriage that lasts beyond its years. Maybe
it will be a love that dies too soon. Maybe it will be the companion who goes with us down every valley,
up every mountain of our lives.
All we know as we get older is that it’s not the number of valentines we get that count. It’s the ones
that last that make all the difference in the end.
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY
 |  |  |  |  |
| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Home||Benedictine Sisters of Erie||Catalogue||Joan in the News||Contact Benetvision Fund for Prisoners||Retreats||About Benetvision||Ideas in Passing Benetvision • 355 East Ninth Street • Erie, PA 16503-1107 • Phone 814-459-5994 benetvision@benetvision.org • Fax 814-459-8066 Copyrighted © 2007 Benedictine Sisters of Erie, PA |