The Love Tree
On Manifesting Love on Valentines Day (and every
day...)
It's a crisp and overcast winter afternoon and I'm
sitting on the front porch with my six-year old nephew, Mikey. Mikey is
complaining bitterly about the fact that his mother brought home regular old
"nothing special" Valentines Day cards for him to give out to his
classmates on the morning of his first Valentine's day party at school.
"But what about the cupcakes with pink frosting your mom's making
Mikey?" I ask. Mikey doesn't answer me; he just puts his head down, folds
his little body inward, and sighs dejectedly. The cards are a painful
embarrassment to Mikey. They don't have lollipops or yummy chocolate kisses
nestled into heart shaped holes like the cards his next door neighbor and best
friend, Sammy, will be handing out. As I struggle to console him, a task that
over the years has seemed almost effortless with this uncommonly cheerful child
becomes an exercise in futility. Eventually l run out of arguments and
explanations, and so I join my nephew in silence and we both sit brooding. I'm
suspecting that Mikey's unhappiness isn't about his meager offering as much as
what his offering represents to him. I'm afraid that what he has to give has
somehow become confused with what he doesn't have, and even more disturbing,
with who he is.
In a culture that breeds consumerism and permits
corporations to manipulate the emotions and desires of its citizens by
purposely creating discontent, our children are asking for name brand products
long before they've learned how to read. And in this land of plenty where it's
been estimated that the typical American spends six hours a week shopping,
works 165 more hours a year today than in 1965, and parents average just forty
minutes a week playing with their children, is it really all that difficult to
understand how a six-year old boy might be beginning to define himself based in
part on what he possesses? How do children escape the very traps that those who
are supposed to teach them repeatedly keep falling into?
It begins to rain and Mikey and I head into the house to
join the rest of his family. I sit and chat with my sister while he and his
siblings settle down to watch an after school special. Within moments the
television screen is dominated by a scene of an absolutely beautiful young
woman moving gracefully along the shoreline with her long hair gently blowing
behind her. In the background a seductive and yet sophisticated male voice is
reciting snippets of Shakespeare's "How Do I Love Thee." Next, there
is a dramatic pause and the virginal beauty stops walking and turns to face the
camera. "Do you really love her?" The voice gently asks with
substantial feeling, "then buy her a diamond this Valentine's Day."
The commercial ends while the message lives on
How is it that a holiday that has been understood to
represent something as sacred and as ineffable as love and whose origins have
been estimated to reach as far back as ancient Rome become linked with
elaborate gifts, cartoon characters, and various other products that support
entire industries?"
Throughout the week I keep remembering Mikey's sadness.
While I recognize that we can't meet all of our children's needs and respond to
their seemingly endless wants, I'm still haunted for some reason by my nephew's
bitter disappointment. It feels as though I owe something to Mikey. And
while I'm not sure what that is, I'm reasonably certain that it can't be
purchased with fancy cards.
What does Valentine's Day truly represent in America
today other than boxes of chocolates, flowers, cards with messages of love
written by a stranger, gifts, and dinner plans? Does February 14th
cause most of us to pause and closely examine our feelings for the significant
others in our lives? Do we contemplate what it is specifically that we want to
celebrate in regards to our loved ones and our loving? And if it's truly love
that we want to manifest on the one day of the year devoted to loving, than how
can we best accomplish this? While presents can be wonderful to give and to
receive, are they as effective as our total presence in communicating our
appreciation, our devotion, and our caring? In a world where capitalism has
become the dominant spirituality of our time according to Jack Nelson
Pallmeyer, in a culture which offers up pleasure as our highest good,
consumption as our sacrament, and "get the most for your money" as
our moral code, where does love fit in, and how do we live it?
There are numerous definitions of love that exist and
countless instructions for how best to demonstrate our loving. Sadly, many of
our messages regarding love are now delivered by giant corporations as diverse
as Channel, Volvo, All State, and Hallmark. Jean Anouilh defines love as
"above all, the gift of oneself" and while this perspective might
inspire us to nod our heads in agreement, it won't necessarily be reflected in
our day to day behaviors.
We have so many opportunities to communicate our love
without spending money in spite of what our apostles of advertising suggest to
the contrary. We can truly listen to a loved one with our whole hearts, without
judgment, and without becoming distracted. We might joyfully engage in a random
act of kindness, make breakfast in bed, an intimate dinner for two, or assemble
our favorite recipes, copy them into a notebook and deliver them to a friend.
We could write a poem, surprise our husbands with a tape of love songs that
capture how we feel about them, or our wives with a written record of how we
first met along with some recollections of special times that we've shared. We
can wash and wax our grandparent's car, or kidnap our child from school in the
middle of the day and go on a picnic. We can deliver a coupon entitling a tired
parent to an evening out while we baby sit, or another that promises our
assistance in completing a specific task to someone else whom we care about.
The possibilities for manifesting our love are almost endless
On Saturday I've decided to answer the small voice that
has kept calling me back to Mikey. My daughter Kristen and I assemble art
supplies and pay him a visit. We ask him if he wants to make a "Love
Tree." Mikey is intrigued with the idea and so we immediately get to work.
We gather branches from outside and fasten them together. Next, Kristen draws
hearts on red construction paper and Mikey and I cut them out. On the front of
a heart Mikey writes the name of his classmate, and on the back we inscribe
something special about the person whose name the heart bares. On Valentines
Day the children will discover a message of appreciation specifically written
to them hanging from the branches of our modest little tree. They will be small
messages of love delivered from my nephew's giant heart. When we are finished
with our task, Mikey's eyes are shining. He can't wait to bring his tree to
school and he tells me excitedly that he knows just where he'll place it -- at
the head of the platter that contains his mom's cupcakes.
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