Of Balloons & Flowers
Every Valentine’s Day our school offers parents the option to order a small, pre-packaged gift for their children which will be delivered to them in the classroom. Typically the choices include a bag of candy, a balloon-on-a-stick, or a flower. Not wanting to miss this opportunity to shower a bit of love on my kiddos, I checked off the items I wanted, paid the small fee, and scribbled out a quick note to be attached to the gift. I had chosen a flower for each of my little princesses, sure that this delicate offer would display my undying love for them. (If you picked up on the notion that “undying” and “flower” are oxymoronic in nature, then you get where this story is headed.) When Valentine’s Day arrived, I waited outside the classroom, anticipating the exuberant gratitude of my daughters upon receiving this tangible sign of my love.
They walked out to me with looks of disappointment thinly veiled beneath the plastered-on “I’m-supposed-to-be-grateful” smile. Their eyes darted back and forth from me to the kids streaming past them to embrace their parents. “Why am I not receiving that embrace?” I wondered. “Where is the enthusiasm I was expecting out of their grateful little hearts?”
And then I realized that all the other children held a gleaming, silver orb fixed atop a straw-like rod. Their sticky little fingers gripped this treasure with fervent joy, bonking each other with shouts of glee and laughter. Ohhhh, that must be the balloon-on-a-stick option I had bypassed for the flower alternative. Immediately, thoughts of ensuing devastation swirled in my head as I quickly realized the revelation that was about to happen in the car…their brother had received the highly coveted balloon-on-a-stick.
And sure enough – the flood gates opened as soon as they saw the so-desired item protruding from his backpack as he loaded the car.
Tears, wailing, and gnashing of teeth.
(Ok, I’m exaggerating a bit, there was no gnashing of teeth, but still…) “Why didn’t WE get balloons, Mom? Everyone else got balloons!”
More tears. The girls held up the remnants of their flowers. The carefully (mis)thought out symbol of my undying love for them. A symbol that was now, in fact, dying. The sad little carnations had already begun to wilt as they hung from broken stems. (Apparently a flower doesn’t hold up quite as well as a balloon-on-a-stick when it comes to bonking your classmates.)
As you might imagine, my knee-jerk reaction was to be frustrated at their ungratefulness. I mumbled a few words about gratitude and my reasoning behind getting them flowers and Grant the balloon, but my words were lost in their tears.
Valentine’s Day fail.
So what’s the take-away here? Well, first off, get your kids the balloon. As the renowned philosopher Winnie the Pooh states, “Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon.” He’s not wrong. I’ve never seen a sad kid with a balloon (unless it had just popped, that is…but that opens up a whole new set of reveries we won’t venture into now.)
On a deeper level, however, it wasn’t an ungrateful spirit that won my memories that day. Rather, what I remember most when I think back on that day is the lack of intention I had put into loving my children.
Yes, I put thought into the holiday. But not much. Basically, I treated the Valentine’s Day gift as a check-the-box activity. I did not take the time to consider how they would feel most loved.
A flower meant something deep to me. I have a distinct memory of one specific moment on my 16th birthday. I walked into the high school office after being called out of class over the loud speakers. The secretary was beaming behind a huge bouquet of red roses. I quickly rifled through the array of blossoms looking for the envelope that would reveal the culprit behind this incredible (and slightly embarrassing) display of affection. The note divulged a hand-written outpouring of profound love... “You’re awesome! Love, dad.”
I laughed out loud. The secretary was a bit befuddled that I did not exhibit my gratitude with a flood of tears and emotion. What she didn’t understand was the relationship between my dad and me. I knew he was capable of showering me with a gush of words, wisdom, adoration, encouragement… he certainly had before. But he also knew that a few silly words to make me laugh would bless me just as much.
My dad studied me. He knew how to make me feel loved. When I got my girls a flower, I was loving them the way I felt loved. I had not taken the time to consider what would truly speak love into their little elementary-aged selves. A flower meant nothing to them, even if they tried to appreciate it. In short, they felt unseen. And, feeling unseen translates into feeling unloved. They couldn’t articulate these feelings. All they understood was a feeling that presented itself as an ungrateful and jealous spirit. I’m thankful for that day because it now lives in my memory as a reminder that intentional love is not a check-the-box activity.
As I reflect on the moments I’ve noticed my kids feel most loved, it’s been because I intentionally did something that met their unique needs and personalities. I could verbalize “I love you” a thousand times to my son, but he doesn’t hear my words. He hears my hugs and tackles and fist bumps. I’ve learned that Wyndsor hears my “I love you’s” in the silly drawings I make for her in her school planner and Bristol hears my “I love you’s” when I stay a couple extra minutes with her at bedtime.
In my next blog, I will to dive deeper into the concept of love languages. For now, I challenge you to take some time to intentionally study your kids this week so you can begin loving them more intentionally. (If you’re already doing that, awesome! Maybe this can just be a reminder to sneak in another intentional love moment this week.)
The first step to ensuring your children receive your “I love you’s” is identifying how each of you feels most loved. Only then can you begin translating love into the language they can understand!
Here’s an idea, try playing a game called “Love is…”
The next time you’re sitting at the dinner table (or in the car on the way to one of your many extra-curricular activities), take turns finishing the sentence “Love is…”
For example, “Love is helping with laundry.” “Love is giving a hug.” “Love is telling someone they are a good singer.” Listen carefully to your children’s answers. They may be telling you their love language. And, don’t forget to offer your own answers. You might just learn something about yourself, too!
In the fire with you,
Toni
“Dear children, let us not love with words or speech
but with actions and in truth.”
-1 John 3:18