Have you ever been rooting around in an attic or in a drawer or boxes of old stuff and come across some old letters from your past?
The year before my husband and I were married, we were 600 miles apart more days than we were together. So we wrote to each other every day, keeping the ol’ flame uber-fanned.
These are the letters that steamed themselves open before they got to the post office.
These are the letters that one day–when our daughter finds them in the attic–will make her throw up in her mouth.
But these are also the letters that–if our house were to catch fire–I would fight to save.
Because the power of words on paper is mighty, my friends.
I realize we’re in a different era now, with phones and computers and all.
But words on paper somehow transmit the personality, even the heart of the writer. They’re imperfect, the script recognizable. And because it takes longer to write them, they sometimes have more thought pushing them onto the page.
Words on paper beg to be read over and over again, to be savored, held in your hand and tied into bundles with twine or ribbon and tucked away in a safe place.
Words on paper can also bring encouragement and inspiration, even if they are discovered or recovered years after they were written.
Please know that somebody somewhere is in deep need of your words right now.
Someone needs sustenance or empathy or sympathy. Someone needs to know that they are cared about. Maybe they need to see the words, “I love you,” “I believe in you,” “I see you,” “You can do this,” “You’re on my mind,” “This too shall pass,” “You’re in my prayers,” “I’m proud of you,” “I’m on your side,” “I love who you are, no matter what, forever,” or any one of a million other words of hope and affirmation and joy.
