День Святого Валентина
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THE STORY OF ST. VALENTINE

Many hundreds years ago, in a far away country, there was an old grey monastery. Here lived and worked many wise and holy men.

        One was a great painter. Another played the great organ very well. Still another sang the sweetest songs. Indeed, it seemed as if all but one could do great things.

        In this company of great wise men, there was one who could not paint, nor play, nor sing, nor do any other great thing. He was a good man, so he began to wonder what he could do best. “I can do nothing for God”, he said. “I am such a simple man. Why am I here where all the others do such grand things?”

        As he sat talking to himself, a strange thing took place. He heard a clean, soft voice say, “Do the little things, Valentine.”

        He looked around and saw no one.

        “I must have dreamed it,” he said.

        Again he heard clean, soft voice. “Do the little things, Valentine.” Again he looked around the room, but no one was to be seen.

        “It must have been an angel,” he said to himself. “Anyway, I can do the little things.”

        He took the broom and swept his room. Then he went out to work in his garden. He loved to work in his garden, for the flowers seemed to blossom for him as for no one else.

          “What do you use to make your roses so fine?” he was asked. “Love and care,” was all

he would say.

           He picked his sweetest flowers and dropped them over the wall as the children passed

on their way to school. Good Valentine smiled when he heard the little children say, “They came down from Heaven. The angels sent them.”

        When a child was born, a white flower was sent to the mother. The sweetest blossoms went to the altar with each young bride. Fairest flowers were placed in cold, dead hands to comfort the living.

        Birthday gifts of mosses or shells or flowers or fruits were sent to all the children.

        If Valentine saw a child crying, he would take it in his arms and comfort it. Boys stopped quarreling when they heard his gentle “Peace be with you, my little brothers.” Wherever he went, little hands clung to his gown, and older folks said, “There is the good Valentine. He always brings sunshine.”

        After his death, the people of the village remembered him kindly. “Let us keep sweet the memory of good Valentine,” they said. “Our children, and our children’s children must know of this good man and his works.”

        So on the birthday of this kind, good man, all the people of the village sent little letters and gifts to one another. From that day to this, St. Valentine is remembered as one who made holy the doing of little things for others.