On my long flight over to see Kristi in Switzerland a couple of years ago, (in my boredom) I made a list of my 100 favorite things that I love and a list of my 100 things that I dislike. The list of favorites went over 100 and the list of dislikes never made it to 100. Since they were my lists, I left them as such.
No. 39 of favorite things that I love is personal mail. Yes, the kind that the US Postal service delivers. I love receiving letters, cards, packages just because. I love seeing a handwritten envelope with my name on it.
I remember writing to every Chamber of Commerce in the United States during the summer of 4th grade, just to get something back in the mail from them with "my" name on it. (Just a FYI....Nebraska sends the best stuff back to you!)
And even though I have never told this love to anyone, my niece Lynda randomly sends me little things in the mail.
My heart skips a beat when I unlock my mailbox and there is an envelope addressed with my name handwritten on it.
One of my favorite writings is this:
The house was sold,
its contents auctioned off,
and the car given to charity.
All that was kept
were a few LETTERS.
Why do we keep them?
Under our bed, up in the attic, in the back of some drawer. We could have thrown them out a thousand times, and yet there they are...Still. Old Love Letters. Written to a person we no longer are, by a hand we no longer hold. Sappy cards and faded stationery, old and deeply wrinkled at the creases. Why do we keep them? Maybe because they are the mile markers of our journey, the currency of our soul and our past. They give our lives a value nothing else can even approach. They mark the times in our lives when we knew we were loved.
And yes, my ultra cool new eraser is safely packed in my backpack and a hand written note to remind me that I am loved!
The 70,273 Project and His Majesty's Hope
3 days ago