Mail Love

The universe is trying to tell me something. Four things point to this:

1. I start reading a cute little book, Just Write: The Art of Personal Correspondence. Nothing special, just for fun. But it makes me consider the dying art of letters.

2. I receive TWO sweet things by 'snail' mail: a letter from TX, written in pencil, on sweet puffin stationery, and a manila envelope from my hometown. The envelope contains pages from a magazine from 2005, telling stories from returned PC volunteers in their own words. A kind friend from high school thought we'd enjoy them. [Brandon and I take turns reading them aloud to each other and get goosebumps. Possibly t-minus 7 months].

3. I see on tv that USPS is considering eliminating mail service one day a week (probably Tuesdays), due to decreased letter volume and budget concerns. This is good for the global meltdown (less fossil-fuel-cranking mail trucks and more peeps using electronic billing), but bad for my love of opening my mailbox every day when I get home, 'cept Sunday. God and the mailpeople must rest on this day. I get it.

It's a slippery slope though - email's taken over and I am, we are, forgetting the value of sitting down to put pen to paper. There really is nothing better than the excitement of finding a non-bill envelope in the box or the satisfaction of reading something with all the handwritten loops and lines sent from some distant place.

4. Yesterday's sermon highlighted the distinct differences between things that are important and things that are urgent. Many things are important, but not urgent, and they get pushed to the end of the list, while urgent (yet otherwise unimportant) things consume our time. People are important. Most of my work-related tasks are urgent, but won't have significant impacts beyond this week.

I'm taking my stand this year by sending more packages, writing more letters, mailing more postcards - to show my people I care, that I'm thinking about them all the time, and that I'm making time for the truly essential.