Our Written Love Story

Because today’s post by Lisa-Jo Baker resulted in me writing my own post in her comments section, which she then so very kindly suggested become a post all it’s own … I offer up a rare two-for-one day.  I hope you won’t mind.

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We have months of love letters.  Not sent via air mail … but a back and forth exchange of dreams and hopes and fears and transparency mailed tenderly between Alabama and Missouri. Letters sent by two twenty-three year olds who had seen enough of life to know that a shared moment of silence is just as significant in building a relationship as hours spent in conversation. Cards filled with “I wish you were here” and “Can’t wait to see you” … and lots of anticipation for the day we’d finally become the mysterious two-in-one flesh.

Scott preached a sermon a year or two ago and shared our box of cards and letters … and held up the very first piece of paper I ever gave him. A scrap of worn paper with doodles and drawings … and in the midst of the randomness, my name and phone number. That little scrap that had been folded and even washed was the first sentence in our written love story. A story that continues today with cards to “Wife” from “Husband” and vice versa.


And truthfully, every day I find there is a moment where my heart has that deep anticipation, for in just a few minutes, I will see my beloved’s face. Not weeks between moments together … now, usually mere hours, but the joy of hearing the door open and waiting for the sweeping into his arms … that thrill has not diminished. In fact, the beauty of a true love story is this … that thrill becomes something far deeper than two twenty-three year olds could have ever imagined.  And the months have become years … and the record continues. Filling up boxes with written whispers and shared secrets and continuing dreams.

Do you have a box of love letters?

 

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