Dear Friends who mailed Christmas cards to us, Thank you. Seriously. Thank you. I've read every word of every one of them. Every photo made me smile. I love seeing how much your children and grandchildren have grown this year. I love that you had the opportunity and took the time to have your whole family dress in coordinated outfits and pose for magazine-worthy shots. And those of you who included that extra sheet of paper folded 4x4 with a run-down of your year in review - well, that's a bonus. It was a joy to read of your travels, your adventures, your reunions, your celebrations, and yes - your trials. I felt like each envelope contained a little visit with you - right there in my hands. I know I can sometimes be ironic... but believe me, that is far from the case here. It has humbled me this year to walk across the road and find your cards in my mailbox - some even delivered hand-to-hand. And I just wanted you to know that your efforts to pose and print and select and send are deeply appreciated. It IS the thought that counts and I'm grateful for your thoughts in our direction.
I speculate that the reason I so deeply regard those cards in my mailbox is that I have not been very good at doing what you have done. It has been hit or miss over here. There were years when I diligently planned and executed the card project. When we took artsy photos and sent them forth to arrive in a timely manner. There were almost as many years that we took photos and just never got around to following through. There was a year or two when I sent "Happy New Year!" cards because the pictures weren't taken until Christmas. Then there was the year when the stars were lining up to do it well - photos taken in advance, cards printed and ready to address - and then my big brother died in early December. The wind went out of my sails that year. The boxes of printed cards sat silently in my cabinet for a long, long time. When packing up to move to Texas, I kept a few copies and threw the rest away. I'm sorry that my lack of discipline has left your boxes emptier than they should be. That I have not reciprocated consistently. That I may have disappointed you. Forgive me. And thank you for keeping me on your lists year after year when I have failed to offer you the same consideration in return.
This card(ing) tale bears the essence of the gospel tale. One sided communication. Love extended. Love haphazardly returned. Generosity consumed and oft hoarded. Twinges of humility-spurred sorrow and regret. Gratitude. Heart. Felt. And a thing beyond.... grace. Grace in an envelope, borne by a messenger, delivered to a postal-manger, and opened by love-hungry hands.
Dear Jesus, I am reminded once again that you offer to me what I do not deserve. What I have not earned. What I can never repay. Your thoughts toward me are precious and immeasurable as sand. (Psalm 139) You do not strike my name from your list, though I fail. I regularly disappoint, you never do. Your grace is the gift my starving heart longs for. And I receive with joy.
Dear Friends who mailed Christmas cards to us, Thank you. Seriously. Thank you. And Merry, Merry Christmas from my house to yours. Selah.
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