Think back about seventeen centuries!   And maybe you'll remember this story . . .          There lived a good man by the name of Valentine, who, wanting to give his life to the service of God, left his friends and relatives to live in a monastery, and became known as a monk.   Now, in this monastery, each monk did that which he believed would be pleasing to God.   One would paint pictures of Jesus, another would sing songs of wondrous beauty and sweetness, while a third would make copies of the sacred Scriptures.          For a while it seemed as if there wasn't anything that Valentine could do to show his love for Christ, and it worried him a lot.   "If I could only weave beautiful tapestries, preach great sermons, or heal the sick,"  he thought.   Suddenly in the stillness a voice seemed to speak to him, saying, "Do what you can, Valentine, and God will be pleased, and bless you."          "But what is there I can do?"  the monk asked.   There was no reply.   So he thought and wondered, until the voice of a little girl woke him from his meditation.   "Please, may I have another flower for poor little Pedro?"  she asked.   "He loved the other one so much."   "Indeed, you may"  said Valentine, as he rose to pluck his sweetest blossom for the little cripple.          "Shame upon me!"  said Valentine to himself, when the child had gone.   "I have let my flowers grow thirsty while I sat and grieved over having nothing to do."   And he began to work in his garden.          To every child who passed that day, Valentine gave a flower, and when his work was done he set out with pretty little bouquets which he took to the homes of the sick, the shut-ins, the lonely and sad.   When the children had birthdays, he always managed to find out about them, and when no one was looking, he would leave a little bouquet on their doorstep and hurry away.   And so it came about that Valentine became the best known and most loved of all the monks, for wherever he went he carried joy and gladness and always tried to help the people to know and love God, and to do right.          But one day an evil ruler ordered Christians to be persecuted, and Valentine was put in prison because of his faith in Christ.   Then the people who knew him were sad, and day by day they would go to the prison and bring him a few flowers from his own well-loved garden.   Winter came, and one day in February, Valentine, the friend of all, was put to death.          The people were brokenhearted, and said,  "We must do something to honor the memory of this great man.   We must keep up his work of sending flowers to people to make them happy, and each year when February 14 comes around, we will send special gifts in honor of him."          Thus it has come about that February 14 is known as Saint Valentine's Day, with its red hearts as reminders of the love and helpfulness of the good monk who lived about seventeen centuries ago.   And because in some parts of our land flowers do not bloom out of doors in February, we have come to use pictures of flowers, with hearts as symbols of love!          Guess what?    It's February!   So . . .