I said earlier today that I had the freedom of running, writing or reading a book. I’ve done all three, and it’s only 3:45 here. I feel wonderfully accomplished and relaxed at the same time, and I still have quality time with my friends before me. The day feels indulgent and sweet. I even had the joy of finding a card from Dave buried in my suitcase. I know how many things Dave was juggling in the hours before I left town, so that he managed somehow to write a card and hide it in my bag made me feel even more loved, if even more loved is possible.
That sweetness on his part got me thinking about the importance of cards in our relationship. Since our relationship started out long distance, we’ve written one another quite frequently. He has a box of cards from me, and I keep a bag of cards from him. When we lived in different states, I used to tell him when I’d put a card or letter in the mail to him because he enjoyed both the anticipation of the gift, as well as the actual receipt of it. Telling him a card was on the way felt like giving him two opportunities to delight in it.
I’m realizing that since he’s moved to my little town, I’ve only given him two cards. I had one waiting for him the day he arrived in his U-Haul, and I wrote another one for him on the first day we spent together after his family left. I don’t think I’ve written him a card since then, and I should.
We build each other up with kinds words. We both appreciate the time and effort that goes into writing someone a note. We both appreciate being told, in writing, that we are cared for, thought of and missed. Dave moved to Texas for me. We now see each other pretty much daily and don’t need to write one another as we did when we lived in different states, but the message of encouragement and love that I received from him today made me realize that I need to be even more intentional now about communicating with him in writing. I think he’d like that. I certainly did.