Until about 2:30. I was heading out to pick up my kids from school when there was a knock at my door. In all my yoga-pants-and-workout-hair-in-bun glory, I swung the door open to a flower delivery guy. He asked if I were Elisabeth Corcoran and handed me the above beautiful bouquet. I have to admit – I’m a sucker for a bunch of wildflowers, and this did the trick.
I also have to admit, I didn’t know who they were from. I unwrapped them and tore open the envelope.
From my Heavenly Father.
Yep, that’s what the card said. The card also reminded me how much I’m loved and that I’m being held right this moment.
I should say, this is not the first time I’ve gotten flowers from my Savior. Jesus sent some to me back in the early fall, I believe.
When I told my kids that our Heavenly Father sent me flowers, Jack said, “That was nice of God.” Yes, dear, it was.
Now, I have to admit, it’s ever-so-slightly killing me that I don’t know who they’re from. I’m pretty much dying to know. But here’s the upside to not knowing. If the card had been signed, I would have thanked that one person and felt loved by that one person (which would still be amazing, don’t get me wrong). But since I don’t know, I’ve been scrolling in my mind through my list of loved ones and came up with about twenty people it could’ve been who did this for me. Which means there are about twenty people plus who love me enough to care for my soul this way. I kind of want to thank them all.
And this all means basically that as I go to sleep tonight and think through that list of people, I’m going to feel completely and ridiculously loved.And that’s the best way I could ever imagine celebrating Valentine’s Day.
