Writing Letters is a lost art.
Writing letters has become a lost art in today’s culture. Our attention spans have diminished to dashing out a quick text message or voice message. Birthday cards and Christmas greetings are fading away. Cursive writing, no longer taught. The appreciation for a more exceptional writing instrument somehow labels you a nerd.
Dearest One, you must know, a pen and paper nerd I am to the worst degree. I love the feel of my pen as it scratches across the paper. And dare not ask to borrow my Staedtler Fineliner. You are, however, welcome to the junk pens in the mason jar near the notepads. -Smile-
I began to ponder this dilemma after picking up Nicholas Sparks’ book Every Breath, drawn to the cover; a stack of old letters tied by a thread. After reading the insert and learning of the Kindred Spirit Mailbox on Sunset Beach, North Carolina, there was no doubt about purchasing Every Breath.
So intrigued by the mailbox and the fact I had family living there, who by the way had failed to mention said mailbox, I needed to know more. Thank you, Daughter, Grandaughter, and Google.
I encourage you to read about the Kindred Spirit Mailbox; it is a beautiful story.
As I pondered the story, I realized not only myself, but a majority of our population no longer writes out letters. And why should we with FaceTime, Marco Polo, Text Messaging, Voxer, and many more apps on our smartphones?
Letter writing is fading away, and this breaks my heart as I confess my dismissal of the treasured art.
Remember the days of running to the mailbox, not for an Amazon package, but for a letter from a loved one? I can feel the excitement as I type the words.
At one point in our marriage, we kept a journal in our bedroom to leave handwritten notes to one another, in hopes that our children and grandchildren would see our love for one another in words.
Sadly, just as letter writing, our journal was somehow lost in our move along with our good intentions.
Lamenting the loss of handwriting and letters, I remembered my journal. My journal holds sacred prayers and messages to God. Conversations and whispered fears, tear stains and coffee stains. Tightly held dreams I carry with me wherever I may go. I am never without my Moleskin journal and Staedtler Fineliner.
My journal is so much an essential part of who I am that my teenage granddaughters are fascinated with the thing, believing there are state secrets among the pages. -Smile-
The precious girls have begged to have them one day. I have gladly agreed, longing for them to know the prayers their Nanna has prayed over them. I want them to know my love for the God who carries me in the wilderness, loves me when I am unloveable, saves me when I cannot keep myself.
I want these things for all of my loved ones, to the degree of keeping every journal I have ever written.
I am making a goal to cultivate the habit of handwritten letters and cards. Leaving notes for my Sweet Man rather than sending a text.
Are you a letter writer? Perhaps you write in a journal; I would love to know.
Can you imagine the face of a loved one when they stumble upon our written words?
Indeed, I believe they would be a gift, a treasured legacy.
Your Wilderness Guide
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I’m blessed to serve you in this place, to share with you the Gifts of Grace as I journey through the wilderness. I picture you across the table, hands wrapped tightly around your cup, sharing life, and laughter, and tears. As I share with you, my daily struggles, I long to hear what yours may be. You can do that by commenting below or reaching out to me at email@example.com.
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