One of the items he brought with him was a letter that my grandmother had written to my great-aunt in the summer of 1931 when my mother was only six months old. I have seen the letter before and it is fun to hear her tale of the little one who was so loved and enjoyed on the train, but who also had a testy little disposition on the day she was writing. It is a hard to imagine your own mother as an infant, but my grandmother told the tale so well you were transported to another time and another place. It is also hard to imagine that someone has held this letter all these eighty-two years.
Dad also brought with him a letter that I had written to him in the summer of 1981, almost exactly fifty years after the letter my grandmother wrote. This letter was not for the book. It was just a walk down memory lane. This was a letter of apology. I was nineteen years old and apparently I had been pretty angst-filled the day before. I don’t remember all of the circumstances around the writing of this letter but again it fascinated me that he still had it in his possession after all these years.
I began to think about all of the hand-written letters that I have in boxes in my garage, in my closets, and in various other places around my house. You see, I love letters. When I was a teenager I used to write letters. At one time I was writing around 35 letters a week. The way I saw it was that the more people I wrote to, the more chance I had of getting a letter back! Every day I anticipated the arrival of the mailman to the box at the end of our driveway. It was such a joy to find a hand-scrawled epistle with my name on it – no matter how short or how long. And then there were those days when I was away at college and my boyfriend from home would write. Do I even need to say how precious those letters were?
Of course, I also had a little bit of a mean streak in me as well. (Hard to believe, I know!) There were former boyfriends who, after they broke up with me or I with them, would receive a packet of the letters which they had sent to me during our time together. These would be tied up nicely with a bow and would have red ink splashed all over them. You see, I would proofread and correct all of the “love letters” they had sent and return them to their owners. I know, I know. I have asked forgiveness!
Letters are becoming a thing of the past. I still have an aunt who writes letters to me occasionally. And a few others I know write letters when they send a card for my birthday, or at Christmas. But we have become so “technified” (yes, that’s a new word I just made up!) that I don’t know that this next generation will truly know the beauty of a hand-written letter. I admit that even I get caught up with email and facebook and texting. It is so much easier to get out a little blurb than it is to sit with a pen and paper and really “talk.” And yet, how many of us will go back after thirty years, or five years, or even five days, and look at something someone wrote to us on facebook?
I don’t keep all of the letters I have received through the years. Some are just newsy and simple and, once done, can be thrown away without much thought. But there are others which hold promises and reminders and moments and love and encouragement. To throw these away would be like throwing away a part of who I am. Perhaps you don’t have a drawer full of these letters and you think I am crazy as you read this. I hope that each of you has at least one such letter that you hold on to and read and remember.
At the risk of sounding hokey – I also want to remind you of the letter that was written for each of us. It is a letter that has stood the test of generations. It has survived fires and floods and hurricanes and wars. It has collected dust in some homes and changed the course of history in others. It has made some men weep and others dance for joy. It does what all of the good letters in my boxes do. The Bible tells us a story. It reminds us of our past. It encourages us to go and face another day. It nudges us when we are walking on a path that will lead us away from our destiny. And it tells me that I am loved beyond a shadow of a doubt. It lets me know I am not alone.
As we I approach 2013 I am convicted of two things. First – I need to spend more time reading over the letter that has been left for me by my Father. I’m sure there are things that I have missed. If I look closely I will see them. I need to remember the blood, sweat, and tears that were poured out on the pages. He was thinking of me when He wrote it – just as He was thinking of you. Secondly – I need to, again, spend time writing letters to people who are important to me. They may choose to throw them away when they are done reading; that is okay. But if I never write what is in my heart, they may never know. I am making a list of those I need to write to this year. I want to make these letters count.
I will probably not write again before Christmas so please let me wish you all the most peaceful of seasons. I pray that God will mend your broken places and fill your empty ones. I pray that the joy you have within you will bring joy to the world around you. Merry Christmas!