As some of you may know, I have been married twice. I excel at guilt, and the breakup of my first marriage after multiple decades together still can weigh heavily on my heart.
Ron worked for a time in the same office where I had a part-time job. Eventually, he moved back to his hometown, nearly two thousand miles from where I lived.
One day I got a call from the receptionist to ask me if I could come and claim the flowers which had arrived for me. Who would send me flowers? Well, it turned out that the receptionist had shared the news with Ron that my mother had died.
I responded to his gift with a thank you note. But instead of reading it and tossing it out, he wrote back with questions that seemed only polite to answer.
What I hadn’t counted on was that he was unstoppable. Once he began, he never stopped writing letters, usually chock-full of questions. His questions to me, with descriptions of his beloved home state, friends, history, jobs, and every other topic under the sun, kept flowing. Once we began, we never stopped writing letters to each other.
We learned about each other through those letters. We were friends, but over time that friendship grew, and eventually, he and I married. He had two daughters, nearly my own age, and I had one daughter still in high school. We wrote letters to each other during all the years we were together.
The letters between us touched upon every aspect of our lives. The Good Lord seemed to watch over us as we corresponded and talked to each other via snail mail and phone. No subject could not be tackled together.
Shortly after Ron’s death, I started to re-read our letters to one another. But I didn’t get very far. They were so emotionally overwhelming that I had to put them away for another day. I wanted to read them, but I could not. I couldn’t read them without grief raining down on me.
For sanity’s sake, I put them further away. Then, as my aging brain is wont to do, I forgot where that place was. Off and on since that time, over the past two years, I have hunted for the letters and have never been able to find them.
Recently one night, I cried in frustration and asked the Lord’s help to find our letters. The Good Lord heard my prayer and led me straight to them. Five minutes later, in a place I would never have thought to look was that vast treasure trove.
I have our letters again, and this time, my tears are tears of Joy & Thanksgiving! Thank you, Jesus!