As I look upon the dishes undone upon the counter, and feel the scratch that a kitten’s claws have left in the leather of my chair, and notice the Spanish work, uncompleted beside the pages of Sumerian cuneiform and Egyptian hieroglyphic charts, I smile in gratitude for the day.
And the nude trees lifting their stark bareness to the sky.
My enthusiasm must have been catching, and after dinner my youngest and I sat to create.
And the two boys, after evening karate, joined us as well.
“What do I write, Mommy?” asks the one-in-the-middle. “Write what God tells your heart to write.”
Because I don’t want these letters to be my words, but theirs, in the way that they hear God. God, who is love. The One who breathes love. God who longs for those who do not know Him to be acquainted with His Love. And who knows how those words from a child might truly touch someone in a profound way? And one-in-the-middle asks me to write down his words for him.
And we all wrote and created and drew and prayed letters of love to strangers.
The plan is to leave these anonymous love letters from God around places that we visit in the next few days: the library, Chapters, a downtown store…. the possibilities are endless. Oh joy! Makes my heart sing… and my prayer is that God will allow those letters of love to fall into the hands of someone who needs to hear about God’s great, unconditional love for them on a cold, November day.