Love is more than three words.

“I love you” is the language of religion and country music.

The Apostle Paul, writing to the Corinthians, reminds us that you may speak in tongues, have exceptional knowledge, or possess many gifts, but if you do not have love, you are nothing more than a gong or a clanging cymbal.

As we approach Valentine’s Day—that day when we pause and reflect on the ones we love, truly love—I find myself remembering times when my “I love yous” were little more than a clanging cymbal. I can also remember those moments when my “I love yous” made my heart race, scared me to death, yet demanded that I take the risk.

My first “I love you” was with Tammy Williams in second grade at Lee Summit Elementary School in Lee Summit, Missouri. With help from my mother, I made my own Valentine’s card. I arrived at school and waited until Tammy was away from her desk. Then I dashed to her seat and placed my card in her Valentine box. I waited anxiously as she opened her cards, and finally she came to mine. To get her attention, I had written “I love you” three times in three different colors from my crayon box. My mother thought it was a bit over the top, but she agreed I needed to be bold.

Tammy opened my card, slowly turned from her desk, looked at me, and whispered, “I love you too.” My heart melted. Nothing more needed to be said or done.

The philosopher Søren Kierkegaard reminds us that love is the work of love—it is action. In a world so divided and at odds with one another, how do we turn our clanging cymbals into a steady drumbeat of compassion, empathy, and yes, love?

In March of my second-grade year, I left Lee Summit Elementary School. As I walked out of the building, my last act was to march up to Tammy’s desk and kiss her goodbye without so much as a warning. It was likely the fastest kiss ever recorded. I bolted from the room and never looked back. I never saw Tammy Williams again. But I would bet she still remembers the card and that kiss. It was no clanging cymbal.

In all my future “I love yous” to my spouse, friends, or colleagues, I will search for that feeling of a seven-year-old taking a risk and showing how his heart truly feels. More often than not, the response will not be a clanging cymbal—but perhaps a whisper: “I love you too.”

Happy Valentine’s Day.

For Freedom Fast, this is Jim Copple.