Intentions: A Little Mail Goes A Long Way
A few weeks ago, during our long weekend "staycation", I took on the task of clearing out the closet in our guest room. It had become a running joke every time my Mother in law came to stay, because we had to clear her a tiny space to hang her clothes - and it got smaller with every visit. This closet has physically and metaphorically followed me from my room at my parent's house, to the spare closet in our rental home, to my Grandma's basement, and now to our guest bedroom.
At various points I've completely emptied it out and rummaged through the piles of memories for a few days looking a bit lost before simply packing it all back up and returning it to said closet. My husband would simply walk by the room, raising his eyebrows at me, and mention that he came to Canada with one suitcase of belongings. He's not wrong.
Through some deep soul searching and a "get down to business" mantra, this particular weekend effort seems to have worked - and for the most part the closet has been organized. Perhaps a future post on what I kept/threw away and the 'why' would be helpful to anyone in a similar situation, but for now I want to share just one box of memories that really took my breath away. A box of old mail - letters, cards, postcards, and little notes - all jumbled up in a bulging file folder that I carried back with me from London, England.
In 2009, shortly after graduating from Teacher's College, I packed up a few belongings and moved across the ocean to live and teach in London. It's strange to look back on the big "leaps" you take in your life and be in awe of your own bravery, when at the time I simply saw the move as what 'had' to happen next rather than a risk that might not work out. I gaze at my own small children now and wonder how I will feel if they ever decide to take a similar leap (with a very loose plan in place for their survival) but I digress.
The box was full of handwritten hugs from family and friends trying to make sure I knew I was still loved and supported from such a long distance. Handmade cards from my Mom, heartfelt thoughts of encouragement from my Dad. Letters tucked in my suitcase by my siblings, each hoping to send a small piece of their heart with me. Christmas, Birthday and Easter cards from my Aunts, best friends, and old family friends. And from both of my beautiful Grandmas, simply letters. So many letters about everyday life, just keeping me in the loop - and really so much more than that.
They were intentional. Each person sat down, chose a piece of stationary, and set pen to paper. It took them slightly more time than we typically give to sending quick messages (filled with just as much love of course), but the outcome has far more value. The message is: you are worth a few minutes of my intentional time - I'm thinking of you in my everyday life - I love you.
I spent a fair amount of my 'cleaning' time reading every single piece of mail that had made the long journey over to me, and in so many ways had kept me afloat. There were a few tears, especially around the handwriting of loved ones no longer with us. All the notes were lovingly wrapped up with ribbon and tucked carefully into the 'keep' box. And I came back from memory lane with the reminder to be intentional about the love I am sending people. A little snail mail really does mean the world sometimes.
Nicole xx
At various points I've completely emptied it out and rummaged through the piles of memories for a few days looking a bit lost before simply packing it all back up and returning it to said closet. My husband would simply walk by the room, raising his eyebrows at me, and mention that he came to Canada with one suitcase of belongings. He's not wrong.
Through some deep soul searching and a "get down to business" mantra, this particular weekend effort seems to have worked - and for the most part the closet has been organized. Perhaps a future post on what I kept/threw away and the 'why' would be helpful to anyone in a similar situation, but for now I want to share just one box of memories that really took my breath away. A box of old mail - letters, cards, postcards, and little notes - all jumbled up in a bulging file folder that I carried back with me from London, England.
In 2009, shortly after graduating from Teacher's College, I packed up a few belongings and moved across the ocean to live and teach in London. It's strange to look back on the big "leaps" you take in your life and be in awe of your own bravery, when at the time I simply saw the move as what 'had' to happen next rather than a risk that might not work out. I gaze at my own small children now and wonder how I will feel if they ever decide to take a similar leap (with a very loose plan in place for their survival) but I digress.
The box was full of handwritten hugs from family and friends trying to make sure I knew I was still loved and supported from such a long distance. Handmade cards from my Mom, heartfelt thoughts of encouragement from my Dad. Letters tucked in my suitcase by my siblings, each hoping to send a small piece of their heart with me. Christmas, Birthday and Easter cards from my Aunts, best friends, and old family friends. And from both of my beautiful Grandmas, simply letters. So many letters about everyday life, just keeping me in the loop - and really so much more than that.
They were intentional. Each person sat down, chose a piece of stationary, and set pen to paper. It took them slightly more time than we typically give to sending quick messages (filled with just as much love of course), but the outcome has far more value. The message is: you are worth a few minutes of my intentional time - I'm thinking of you in my everyday life - I love you.
I spent a fair amount of my 'cleaning' time reading every single piece of mail that had made the long journey over to me, and in so many ways had kept me afloat. There were a few tears, especially around the handwriting of loved ones no longer with us. All the notes were lovingly wrapped up with ribbon and tucked carefully into the 'keep' box. And I came back from memory lane with the reminder to be intentional about the love I am sending people. A little snail mail really does mean the world sometimes.
Nicole xx
Comments
Post a Comment