Living Letters

 “I miss my mailbox,” Joshua bemoaned as he peered at the top of his dresser this morning and patted the empty space where his Valentine’s box had been.

“Me, too,” I agreed while I pulled a sweater over his brown topped head and helped my littlest boy jump into his church pants.

“Can you just leave me one more surprise today?” Josh begged, reminding me of the fun we’d shared during our fourteen days of love earlier this month (see “It’s Finally Here!” February 1st post). I kissed the furrowed brow to acknowledge his earnest plea and reminded my son that every day was full of surprises but not all surprises are delivered by “bug mail.”

Later, as I studied the landscape of playing cards in front of me on this lazy Sunday afternoon and tried to focus on my daughter’s smile instead of my body’s aching pleas for a Sabbath nap, I thought again about how much I missed those little mailboxes. Filling cheery bug boxes with tiny treats and silly love notes is easy. Being a living letter of love is not.

To be a living letter that declares I love you,  I must speak less and listen more. To be a living letter that says You are important to me, I must take time for the things that matter to my loved ones even when I’m short on time. To be a living letter that declares I believe in you, I must allow my children to take risks that may lead to failure. To be a living letter that proclaims I am here for you, I must make myself available even when it’s inconvenient- at 2 A.M. when  nightmares haunt sleep, at 5A.M. when my “quiet time” is invaded by a warm waking body climbing on my lap, and at 5 P.M. when a school-ager wants to process her day while supper boils over on the stove. To be a living letter that points to Jesus, I must chase hard after the Savior myself. I must carve out time to linger in His word, sit at His feet in prayer and serve Him in adoration. I must seek to become less so He can become greater. I must choose the things of Heaven over the things of earth, the treasures of eternity over the trinkets of this world.

This is no easy script, no easy letter to write. I’d rather just cram a cute mailbox with a bottle of root beer and a cheesy note that promises, “I”ll always root for you.” I’d rather just leave chocolate kisses and magic-marker hugs, teddy bear stickers and long licorice ropes. Being a living letter takes time. Being a living letter takes sacrifice.   My choices today are written on my children’s hearts tomorrow. What will my soul scribbles say?

The Overflow:  Clearly, you are a letter from Christ showing the result of our ministry among you. This “letter” is written not with pen and ink, but with the Spirit of the living God. It is carved not on tablets of stone, but on human hearts.
–2 Corinthians 3:3