I was genuinely happy that this young man wanted to serve God by spreading the good news of the gospel. Yet when I returned home alone that night after our goodbyes, it hit me . . . two years is a long time. I walked downstairs to my bedroom. Then I sat on my bed and cried.
Just then I heard the door-bell ring. I wiped my eyes and walked upstairs. When I opened my front door, there was a floral delivery guy holding a dozen red roses addressed to me from my sweetheart. Something about that gesture touched me so deeply. Ross had thought ahead about how I might be feeling just at that moment.
So I cried some more.
Today I opened the door and there was my sweetheart . . . holding the red roses for me in his arms.
Yes. It all worked out and we got married after he returned home from his mission. But that night when I was nineteen, I didn't know what was going to happen and I had to live on hope. Red roses always take me back to that tender moment.
Now, ten children and 22 grandchildren later, nothing delights me more than seeing my sweetheart walk through the front door with his arms full of red roses.
Ross - having you in my life is like having Valentines Day every day of the year.
I love you.