This post is dedicated to my friend Kathleen, who joined the ranks of Heaven this past week.
When I taught English, one of the activities I would have my students do was write their own obituary. While it may sound morose, it was a good lesson—not only would it Continue reading “With Amazing Grace”
Over time, the memories we have of people can almost become analogies for who they are to us—especially those who are no longer in our lives to make new memories. We hang on tightly to those vital reminders of what is no longer tangible to us.
My dad died just after I turned 21, and I am now well past the mark where I have lived longer without him than with him. Thankfully, even with my fuzzy brain these days, I still have many important memories of him, as I’ve shared here before. Continue reading “Always at the Bottom of the Slide”
This past week, a janitor from my work retired. Many years ago, in a “random act of kindness” mindset, I sent him a card telling him how much I appreciated the work he did and the way in which he did it. The next time he saw me, this soft spoken man said to me, “Thank you so much for the card—your words meant more than you know.” It was just a small gesture, but it mattered. From that day forward, there was an extra measure of warmth in our greetings to one another.
Saying farewell to him got me thinking about the ways in which things touch our hearts and how much it can mean to share those sentiments—and how often we miss opportunities to do just that.
When I was in my senior year of high school, a friend of mine signed the back of her class photo (do they still do that anymore?) in a way that took me by surprise. Though the exact wording is hazy in my memory, it was along the lines of “your friendship means more than you know.” It made me feel like I mattered to her and it opened up a conversation that we never would have had without her sharing her feelings in tiny blue handwriting.
We are still friends today.
We are meant to matter to one another. Except for the occasional recluse, we are social beings where mattering to someone else matters to us. So why is it so hard for us to let people know “more than they know”?
Sometimes I think it’s because we’re too busy—caught up in the minutiae of life. And that’s really a shame, when you think about it. Every day is a race…but to where? And for what?
Sometimes I think it’s because it’s just plain hard to find the right words. As a writer, I know that I am a much better communicator with my fingers than my lips. It gives me a chance to think through my thoughts…usually a plus in Communication Land.
Sometimes I think it’s because it’s just too scary. If we share with someone that we care about them, and it’s met with anything less than reciprocation, it’s a bit of a bummer. When things are too often a one-way street, realizing you are traveling alone hurts the heart.
Whatever the case, too often we miss opportunities to connect with someone and let them know they matter. And whatever the excuse, those missed opportunities are a loss. For both giver and receiver.
My heart is heavy these days. A very dear friend of mine has suffered yet another devastating blow in her battle with cancer. There is nothing that I can say to her that will be of any real help. But I know with certainty that she knows she matters to me and that I’m praying for her. I know that she feels the love of many. And while this doesn’t lessen her pain or change her diagnosis, it does matter. She matters.
Please know that I am no one to teach or preach on vulnerability—my husband jokes that I am a CIA agent because I can be so guarded on things—but often I write because it is the very thing I need to hear. So…go tell someone they matter to you. It may be “more than they know”—and exactly what they need to hear.
Personal letters are a real treat anymore, aren’t they? We cringe at a full email inbox because most of it is work to do or stuff to delete after wasting a precious moment of our lives. But to get a “real” letter in the mail (or, heck, even a truly thoughtful email!) is like a cool spring morning that you just want to breathe in deeply and enjoy.
In the blogging world, it is not uncommon to come across letters that parents write to their children as a way for the kids to be able to remember a time in their lives and to know that they are loved. I know I still have the few letters my parents wrote to me in college. Little prose snapshots of a time gone by for me to cherish. And I have numerous fits and starts of letters to my own child…something that I should really be better about.
Years ago Ellen DeGeneres did a hilarious bit about calling God and getting the runaround. But…what if God wrote you a personal letter? What do you think he might say to you?
In my own musings (NOT to presuppose God…yeesh…don’t get your knickers in a knot), I would hope that–like the typical “parent letter”–there would be a chunk in there about how much he loves me. I’m pretty sure that might even make the first paragraph. Maybe he would say that even though he sees me stumble every day, he hopes I know that his hand is right there ready to help me up. And that even though I mess up all the time, he loves me just the same. And that even though I don’t understand all about him, he’s patiently waiting for me to journey on. I’m thinking he might even say, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the patience of a saint” and draw a little smiley face next to it. Because my God has a sense of humor. Looking at my life, I just know this to be true.
Would he then take some time to tell me some of the things he sees in me that he likes? Maybe that would be a short paragraph. Maybe not. Words that I would like to see him use include compassionate, loving, kind, loyal, supportive, forgiving…maybe he’d put an asterisk next to a few saying *you’re improving, but…still needs work! Keep trying! This portion of the letter is so hard…I am such an imperfect work in progress there might not be anything for him to write about. Maybe he would be reduced to having to write something trivial just to cover this base like, “Your personal grooming habits are impeccable. And have I mentioned what a nice, thick head of hair you have?”
Perhaps he would then offer me some loving encouragement about all the ways I need to grow up. That would be a long paragraph. Included there would be things like I need to be better at loving the people around me, have more patience, grow a thicker skin, tear down my carefully built walls, and take better care of myself. He’d find a Godly way to say “Get your ass in gear, Lisa,” so that I press on toward the goal to which I am called. Of course, being God and all, he’d know just the right words to use so that I’d still feel his love after he read me the riot act. After all, the whole omniscience thing is his gig.
Just thinking through this imaginary letter has been an interesting exercise for me. I encourage you to explore this idea, too. What if God wrote you a letter? What might he want your heart to know? Well, here’s one thing I do KNOW: he would definitely sign it, LOVE, God.
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