…a handwritten letter
Every Sunday without fail, my mom will pause to write letters to her two sisters (and when her mother was alive, to her). And they to her. They used to pen their letters by hand but now write by computer – but they print them out and mail them each week. For part of the joy is in the ritual: addressing the envelopes, applying the stamp, putting the letters in the post. And receiving “real mail” each week. Indeed, so regular is the practice that the postal people worry when they don’t see the two letters appearing on Wednesday or Thursday with the daily assortment of bills and junk mail.
Whenever I visit my parents, I read the weekly letters. My Aunt Carole’s are filled with her wit and quips (she the youngest of four); my Aunt Judy’s drip with wisdom and observations of life on the farm (she the eldest). I don’t know what my mom – middle child – puts in hers, as of course her letters aren’t lying on the kitchen counter for me to read like my aunts’ are.
These letters remind me of the Kingdom of God. They may not ooze with emotional declarations, for… [read the rest at Accidental Devotional here]