My daughter is in Girl Scouts this year. As you might already know, it's cookie time! I decided to help her out by letting my Facebook friends know she was selling. I got several responses and so far, I have mailed out two orders. One to Goodyear, Arizona to a dear, dear friend of mine from Bible school. I love Valerie like a sister.
The other to Yakima, Washington to a former boss, who by the way, is one of the MOST Godly men I've ever be blessed to meet. Loved working for him and wish I still did. Fantastic guy!
Before I mailed the cookies out, both of these people mailed me money to purchase their order. No biggie. Just mailing a check, right? Oh so very wrong.
Both of them put small personal messages in the envelope. First was Scott, the former boss. "With all my brotherly love" it read. Seven months of sitting right next to him came back in a flash. I can't describe working for Scott. He was like an older, wise and very Christlike uncle! Always encouraging, never harsh, never rude and operated under such grace. ALL THE TIME. It was the most amazing thing I've ever witnessed. His hand written note touch me. I loved it!
Then came Val's note. It was a card, letting me know she hoped I "had a great day" and that she loves me. This note moved me to tears. Her handwriting moved me. So often when I wanted to talk to Valerie, I would write on her Facebook wall. I didn't know her address. Just that she lived in Arizona. Seeing her handwriting, I was stunned for a moment. This wasn't just typed words on Facebook anymore. This was a note that she took the time to write, with a PEN, to me, and put it in an envelope. I cried.
Then it really hit me. Notes in the mail. They used to mean something. I have letters my grandmother wrote me while I was in Bible school that are treasures today. Her handwriting, her personality are in those letters. And my mom, I could pick out her handwriting from a million other peoples'. I know her signature. I know her little curvy thing she draws to bring her attention to something important in the Bible.
My sister is the same. Her HUGE, curly signature. The way she doesn't exactly close her "g" when she writes in cursive. I copied that. I loved it so much and it was so unique that I spent hours and hours writing a cursive "g" like my sister. Now it's second nature when I write, yet EVERY SINGLE TIME I write a "g" no matter where I am or how busy I am, I think of my sister. If only for a half second. It's HER "g" that I stole.
In all these stories, its the HANDWRITING that means something. We don't have that simple joy anymore. It's nothing but a font now. Maybe it's just the writer in me that craves the uniqueness of a person's handwriting. I even think handwriting should be on grave markers somehow. How much more original can you get?
I miss the days of writing letters to my friends from Bible school. Or getting letters in the mail. I had one friend that would write 10 to 12 pages front and back every time he wrote me.
I've decided my daughter will have a pen pal. It's something too valuable to not have. Letters mean something. Posting on someone's wall can be sweet, but nothing says "I care about you" like a hand written note in the mail.
I have to say thank you to Scott and Valerie for their notes. They meant more than you can EVER know. I treasure you both.
The other to Yakima, Washington to a former boss, who by the way, is one of the MOST Godly men I've ever be blessed to meet. Loved working for him and wish I still did. Fantastic guy!
Before I mailed the cookies out, both of these people mailed me money to purchase their order. No biggie. Just mailing a check, right? Oh so very wrong.
Both of them put small personal messages in the envelope. First was Scott, the former boss. "With all my brotherly love" it read. Seven months of sitting right next to him came back in a flash. I can't describe working for Scott. He was like an older, wise and very Christlike uncle! Always encouraging, never harsh, never rude and operated under such grace. ALL THE TIME. It was the most amazing thing I've ever witnessed. His hand written note touch me. I loved it!
Then came Val's note. It was a card, letting me know she hoped I "had a great day" and that she loves me. This note moved me to tears. Her handwriting moved me. So often when I wanted to talk to Valerie, I would write on her Facebook wall. I didn't know her address. Just that she lived in Arizona. Seeing her handwriting, I was stunned for a moment. This wasn't just typed words on Facebook anymore. This was a note that she took the time to write, with a PEN, to me, and put it in an envelope. I cried.
Then it really hit me. Notes in the mail. They used to mean something. I have letters my grandmother wrote me while I was in Bible school that are treasures today. Her handwriting, her personality are in those letters. And my mom, I could pick out her handwriting from a million other peoples'. I know her signature. I know her little curvy thing she draws to bring her attention to something important in the Bible.
My sister is the same. Her HUGE, curly signature. The way she doesn't exactly close her "g" when she writes in cursive. I copied that. I loved it so much and it was so unique that I spent hours and hours writing a cursive "g" like my sister. Now it's second nature when I write, yet EVERY SINGLE TIME I write a "g" no matter where I am or how busy I am, I think of my sister. If only for a half second. It's HER "g" that I stole.
In all these stories, its the HANDWRITING that means something. We don't have that simple joy anymore. It's nothing but a font now. Maybe it's just the writer in me that craves the uniqueness of a person's handwriting. I even think handwriting should be on grave markers somehow. How much more original can you get?
I miss the days of writing letters to my friends from Bible school. Or getting letters in the mail. I had one friend that would write 10 to 12 pages front and back every time he wrote me.
I've decided my daughter will have a pen pal. It's something too valuable to not have. Letters mean something. Posting on someone's wall can be sweet, but nothing says "I care about you" like a hand written note in the mail.
I have to say thank you to Scott and Valerie for their notes. They meant more than you can EVER know. I treasure you both.
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