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"Happy Wuv Wetter Day, Daddy!" Three-year old Haden met my husband at the door, and held up a colorful card.
"Well, what's Love Letter Day, big guy?" Mike asked, hanging his jacket on the rack.
"Hi, Daddy! We decorated all these special cards and notes and letters today!" Raelynn said, proudly showing the stack of creations.
Several pieces had not dried completely and stuck together a bit, but she carefully pulled them apart to show the ribbons and bows and
lace.
"It was so fun," she added. "We're gonna mail them to people to show them that we love them and that God loves them."
Our youngest son, Houston, toddled in and held up his favorite masterpiece. With a big grin, he said "Wook, Daddy! Wuv Wetter!"
"Good job, Houston. I see your brother's tried out a new hairstyle, huh?" Mike laughed, patting Haden's hair down in front. It still
stuck up.
I grinned. "Those kindergarten scissors are pretty safe without the points, but they still cut. I went to get more markers, and when I
came back Haden was gluing a little wad of black hair inside Mr. Harwell's card."
At dinnertime, I flopped down at the table, exhausted. I'd cleaned for two hours, and I still had something sticky on the bottom of one
shoe. When we bowed to give thanks for our meal, I found a heart sticker and a piece of tape on the arm of my chair.
As we ate, the children jabbered on to Mike about their artwork, but I smiled to myself as I dished up casserole. I'm glad you kids
enjoyed your first Love Letter Day, because it was also your last. Mommy's gonna find us a new family project!
The next Sunday at church, Mrs. King wheeled her walker slowly across the foyer toward our family. I gently hugged her stooped shoulders,
then noticed tears in her eyes. She bent down close to my daughter's face and spoke in a soft voice.
"Raelynn dear, I visit a special lady named Miriam every week at the Meadowlands Nursing Home. She has no family left and I am the only
person who ever visits her. Do you know Miriam?" she asked.
"No, ma'am," Raelynn answered.
It suddenly dawned on me that we mailed several of our Love Letters to Meadowlands Retirement Home just last week. We didn't know the
names of any of the residents so we addressed them to the main office.
Mrs. King straightened back up and patted my arm. "I’ve never once seen anything on those drab walls in Miriam’s room. Not once in all
these years. But yesterday when I went for my weekly visit that beautiful card was hanging up with the names of all your children! Thank
you for caring enough to send something to her," Mrs. King said. "Especially something so shiny and pretty!" She winked at Raelynn.
I guess the nurses thought Miriam would like a Love Letter, so our card found it's way to her room. My eyes filled up as I thought of
Miriam enjoying a glittery card from my children.
My throat tightened, but Raelynn spoke up. "Well Mrs. King, now that we know Miriam's name, we'll send her something pretty on every,
single Love Letter Day. Right Mommy?" she said, turning to me. I dug a tissue out of my purse and nodded.
As the next Love Letter Day approached, my heart still wasn't completely in it. I would keep up our mission, of course. But I approached
it as a task, an obligation. I forgot that God wants my heart to sing with joy at the thought of serving him. So God sent me a gentle
reminder.
I made my way down the long walk to our mailbox, drinking in the early spring weather. The colors were refreshing; pink and purple
blossoms punctuated bright green new growth. Our lane looks like a painting today. I wish I could take these colors indoors and hang
them on my wall! Thank you, Lord.
I stopped at the mailbox and reached in. A little white envelope, addressed in shaky penmanship, had no return address. I quickly opened
it, and felt warm tears fill my eyes.
"To Raelynn, Haden, and Houston, Thank you for a leter. I am happy. I am so happy with your leter I cry. Thank you for send me mail. I
like the snowflak stickers best. I hope you get my leter. Love, Sheryl."
"I can't believe she wrote this," I said under my breath, wiping my eyes. Our precious friend Sheryl is forty years old and has Down's syndrome. She struggles with many simple tasks, so it took great effort for her to write a letter. What a gift! I stood in the gravel
path with Sheryl's letter pressed to my heart and lifted my face to the blue skies. Dear Lord, if you want to use Love Letter Day to
your glory, then who am I to try to stop you? Forgive me for not seeing your plan more clearly.
My mind raced with creative ideas as I bounced up the sidewalk and burst through the front door. "Kids," I called. "I have a great idea.
Let's press some spring flowers to glue on cards for our next Love Letter Day!"
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About The Author:
Brenna Fay Rhodes is a freelance writer from Waco, Texas. She finds inspiration in nature, people, and God. Brenna is also a
contributing author in Groovy Chicks Road Trip to Love. Contact her at
brennafayrhodes@hot.rr.com.
*This article is NOT available for your publication.
For reprint rights or comments/questions about this article, please contact the author.
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