On Valentine's Day, the store was packed.

I had a long grocery list in preparation for a houseful of company.

Parking spots were scarce, the wind chill was below zero, and when I arrived, a coupon I'd been carrying was apparently lost in the wind.

My first stop was the meat section where I found chicken on sale, the packaging of which left a slimy trail of chicken juice all over my hand. I searched for the paper towels that usually hang in the meat department, and as I wiped up, I realized even though my hand was dry, chicken slime residue would cling to me through the store.

On my way down the crowded aisles, I encountered an elderly couple who had found a friend coming toward them. The three of them, their two carts taking up the entire aisle, stopped for a lengthy chat. I stood behind them for what seemed an interminable wait, which was probably only 30 seconds, before the friend backed her cart up so that I could squeeze between them.  

I was focusing on the wrong stuff.

But I filled my cup with some grace on my grocery trip.

The store was crowded with a rush of men searching for flowers, the obligatory male Valentine offering. Now, there are two mindsets about a holiday like Valentine's Day – or Mother's Day, for that matter. They're either artificial "Hallmark holidays," a commercial goldmine for florists, restaurants and chocolatiers, or they're days set apart for celebrating people, a great excuse to be loving or romantic.

Right now, I choose the latter. In our country's present disgruntled mood, we need to boost love, romance and affection even if it has to be imposed on us. We need a kick in the posterior that says, "Be nice to someone." So I rejoiced in seeing a bunch of guys looking sheepish – OK, and maybe a little obligated – as they carried bouquets around a store.

Then there was the young guy at the checkout counter. The customer ahead of me asked him if he had anything special planned for Valentine's.

"No, this grocery store is my life," he replied cheerfully.

So, when it was my turn we chatted. He told me that he had to put in extra time that day. I told him I was amazed at the crowd and wished I could have a dollar for every guy I saw walking around with flowers.

"Oh, my gosh," he said, "It's been crazy. But you should have seen it Wednesday, which is senior discount day. The store was full of older people choosing flowers."

At home, as I washed chicken slime off with soap and water, I chuckled about senior citizens buying their bouquets two days early to save 5%. I admired the roses my husband had given me. I gave him chocolates in a heart-shaped box. After 40 years, we may not score very high for creativity or imagination, but we get the point across.

And I thought of how grace enters a day and offers itself to us. We make choices, we invite God in or we close the door. We choose our focus.

Chicken slime or cheerfulness. Thoughtlessness encountered, or the cheery chattiness of a stranger. Where do we find God in all this? It's our choice to search. If you didn't celebrate Valentine's Day, no problem. Tomorrow is another day. Celebrate every day.