I found a slice of my past in the garage last weekend. Flash flooding had forced me to empty and clean the entire space. But before I could throw away a box of water-soaked childhood mementos, I had to take one final look.
So I sat on my driveway, surrounded by bicycles, paint cans, and old car seats, and opened this portal to my past. Two seemingly unrelated things caught my breath:
I’m not sure how I learned anything in school because, based on the volume received, I must have been constantly writing notes! (Sorry, Mom and Dad.)
Lots about boys, friends, and school—they reminded me how wrapped up I’d been in my little bubble of the social circle. But they also held tremendous support, love, and loyalty.
Having just watched my little girl turn nine, I think this glimpse into the mind of a pre-teen/teenager came to me at the right time. A gift to help me keep perspective and empathy during her future years, when life “falls apart” at regular intervals.
When I was thirteen, I broke my jaw in a cheerleading accident. “Shattered” is how I described it in my journal from that year. I still remember the events before and after, even though I’d rather not.
I’ve had root canals, bone grafts, my jaw wired shut, crowns, a bridge, tooth death, tooth extraction, and my current partial denture that, yes, comes out at night.
That’s a lot of money wrapped up in my mouth—money that my parents had probably set aside for the necessities of a family of six on a single income. (Sorry, Mom and Dad.)
And after all that, my smile still isn’t perfect—it’s off center and one tooth short of a full set—my jaw has a weird numb-tingly feeling when I rub it, my mouth opens a little to the side, and I’ve got a nasty scar under my lip (not nearly as cool as Harry Potter’s).
So when I found an 8.5 x 11” envelope full of post-accident get-well cards, notes, and posters, all the emotions of the event and its aftermath returned. The hurt felt fresh but so did the love.
In fact, I never knew one envelope could hold so much love for so many years—tomorrow marks twenty-six—through multiple moves, attic and basement storage, and now water damage.
So what’s the link between these two things?
and the Written Word.
We connect and show love through the words we write. And when we give those words to others, we’ve created indestructible love. It survives years in storage and keeps on beating even when its physical form fades.
So I’m challenging you to create a connection this week. Pack your words into a card or text and send it to someone who’s hurting. A love note that’ll be around forever—part of their past, present, and future.
Who’d you send your #lovenote to? Share your story in the comments below!