I’ve always been a big fan of love letters.
I’m a word nerd, so that’s not surprising. I love words. An email or a sweet text can make my day. But man, a handwritten love letter on actual stationery? I’m sorry, that’s just hot.
When I first got to college and joined a sorority, I was in complete awe of the seniors. I was a clueless 18-year-old girl a few months out of high school. They were WOMEN, in their TWENTIES. And they were talking about things like getting jobs and getting married. They were GROWNUPS, for heaven’s sake.
I quickly learned the importance of a good engagement story. Whenever somebody would get engaged, we would all gather around to hear how it happened.
Now let me just take a moment to say there were no cell phones, there was no Facebook, no choreographed flash mobs. Nobody hired a photographer and/or videographer to capture the whole thing, put it to music and post it on the couple’s wedding website.
It was a different time. The story usually involved flowers and dinner. Maybe a walk on a beach or a hike to a beautiful mountain view. Sometimes a place of special significance (where they had their first kiss, first date, whatever).
So these beautiful, intelligent older girls would tear up and giggle, flash around their engagement rings and as soon as we all stopped squealing (Yes, I had moments of squealing in my sorority days. I don’t know. It was contagious.), the storytelling would commence. And we all hung on every word.
There were plenty of perfectly timed gasps and awwwwwwwws. But there’s one part that always bothered me.
In almost every story, the soon-to-be-blushing bride would get to the actual proposal, the guy would take a knee and inevitably she would say, “and he said a bunch of sweet stuff I can’t remember and then he said ‘Will you marry me?’”
Of course more squealing and awwww-ing would commence and I would join in. But inside I was kind of indignant. He said a bunch of sweet stuff that you can’t remember?! That’s the good stuff! THAT’S what I want to hear about! That’s the best part!
This need for love letters has been pounded into Brad’s head from the moment we got married. But even before that, he was good at it. (Probably one of the reasons we GOT married, actually.)
He would MAIL me love letters from Orlando when I lived in Ocala. (Are you kidding me? Who does that?) And I could always expect one on special occasions and sometimes for no reason at all.
And now whenever there’s a birthday/holiday/anniversary and he asks me what I want, my response is always the same: A date, flowers and a love letter. And being the smart man that he is, he always obliges. (And being the BRILLIANT man that he is, last year on my birthday, he threw in a cookie cake. I mean. Just pardon me while I swoon.)
But here’s why I need love letters: When we hit a rough patch or when life is anything other than perfect, I forget.
I forget the things he loves about me.
I forget the things I love about him.
I forget how far we’ve come in five short years.
I forget all wonderful things he’s said and done since we’ve known each other.
So in moments of sadness and discouragement, I’ll pull out the ever-growing stack of love letters and read through them so I can remember. And as I retrace our love story, I begin to function from a place of feeling loved again. And that changes everything.
Research shows that we remember more negative things than positive things.
Professor Clifford Nass says, “The brain handles positive and negative information in different hemispheres. Negative emotions generally involve more thinking, and the information is processed more thoroughly than positive ones. Thus, we tend to ruminate more about unpleasant events — and use stronger words to describe them — than happy ones.”
Professor Roy F. Baumeister puts it like this: “Bad emotions, bad parents and bad feedback have more impact than good ones. Bad impressions and bad stereotypes are quicker to form and more resistant to disconfirmation than good ones.”
Well, that just sucks.
I’ve got a fairly strong long-term memory and I consider myself a typically optimistic person. But I can totally see the validity of those statements in my own brain.
Which brings me back to the critical importance of love letters. Over the years I’ve also printed out positive emails, saved Facebook comments, squirreled away Mother’s Day cards from the kids. I’ve even started a document for kind text messages. I call this collection ‘the rainy day file.’
Because, you guys, I just forget. I forget how loved I am. I forget that I’m making even the smallest difference in my world. I forget the good things I’ve done and I’m eternally grateful for the people who have called it out in me in savable ways.
The Bible is the ultimate rainy day file and the love letter to end all love letters. God knew we would forget. We forget the history of our faith and the stories of our ancestors and how God came through for them. We forget how Jesus lived when He was here and therefore how WE’RE supposed to live. We forget what He went through to secure our salvation. We forget how unbelievably loved we are.
Just the other night, Caroline was just being eaten alive by the actions of some stupid little mean girl at school. (Seriously. Mean girls in third grade. God help us.) My daughter is a friend to all and was a particularly good friend to this little snot at one point, which made the betrayal all the worse.
We talked through her feelings and how she was going to handle it, but she was frustrated that she couldn’t get the thoughts out of her head. And we all know how that goes: The harder you try to NOT think about something, well, you just end up obsessing about even more.
I said, “Caroline, listen. You gotta go get in your Bible. Remember Philippians 4:8 and all the things we’re SUPPOSED to be thinking about?”
Her teary eyes lit up. She was familiar with that verse, as we used it a lot in her younger days to combat nightmares.
“Yeah, go read that. And make a list as you go through it of all the good, noble, true, right, beautiful, praiseworthy stuff you can think of. Focus on that stuff.” She rushed to her bookshelf, grabbed her Bible, plopped down on her bed and flipped to the familiar passage.
I smiled as I closed the door behind me and reminded myself I should probably go study the same verse to interrupt all the evil plots that were forming in my head toward that bratty little turd who hurt my kid. (Mama Bear needed a Xanax. Or a drink.)
I remember years ago when I was wrestling against the crushing regret of my Post-Divorce Brain Damage. I was feeling so ashamed, I wouldn’t even allow myself the comfort of sitting on my bed so I sat on the hardwood floor of my bedroom. (Dramatic, I know.)
With my face in my hands, I turned my sins over and over in my brain and wondered how I could ever walk into a church again. And then my head snapped up. Hold on a second! There is therefore now NO condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, right? Didn’t I read that somewhere?
I reached for my Bible and flipped around until I found Romans 8:1-2. The rest of it beautifully promises, “And the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set me free from the law of sin and death.”
I read the words over and over and over and finally buried my face in the pages, trying to absorb the truth by osmosis. A wave of forgiveness washed over me. A few minutes later, I took a deep cleansing breath and climbed back into bed. No condemnation. Free. Those are the kind of words that help you sleep at night.
We just forget. Our loving Father KNEW we would forget and He wasn’t going to make our faith rest on our fragile, failing memories. So He compiled a love letter to read and reread again and again as often as needed. Praise You, Lord.
But the Bible isn’t God’s only message to the world. Paul says in 2 Corinthians 3, “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everyone. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts” (vv 2-3).
Oh crap. I’m a walking letter from God to everyone? What the heck has my life been saying? Ugh. (Wait. No condemnation. Okay. Whew.)
It’s not pressure. It’s an unbelievable privilege. I’ve experienced the shocking and humbling phenomenon of God using my voice to speak His truth and it never ceases to take my breath away. Yes, He can use even me. The bar is pretty low. All He needs is a willing vessel.
God knew we would forget. And the thought of us not remembering His insane, ridiculous, undeserved, unearned, unconditional love for us was just not acceptable to Him. So He made sure we had a rainy day file, a love letter for all time.
Then He filled those who believe with the Spirit of Himself so He could use us to remind each other of the truth of that love.
So when anything is less than perfect, we have pages and pages filled with words of love so we can remember.
Wonder what our days would look like if we started each morning with a love letter? Or with a note from our rainy day file?
People who know they’re loved, who live loved, do it differently. Their eyes sparkle. Their breath comes easy and even. Their shoulders are relaxed. They’re harder to rattle, nearly impossible to discourage. They take risks in the security of their standing, not in an attempt to prove themselves.
If a love letter or encouraging text from a flawed human can have that much of an impact on my day, how much more should the very words of God minister to my oh-so-needy heart?
We can’t afford to waste one extra minute living an unloved and doubt-filled life. Read The Love Letter for your own heart. Then BE The Love Letter for someone else’s.
That’s the good stuff. THAT’S what people want to hear about.
That’s the best part.
