If I told you to handwrite and mail a letter right now, what would you have to do? First, find a piece of paper. And not just ripped out of a notebook — I’m talking about the good stuff. Stationery or a greeting card preferably. Also, you need a pen. The first one you grab is a cheap one from the bank that doesn’t work anymore. But at the bottom of your purse you finally find one of the good ones.
And then you have to find an envelope. Then hunt around for a stamp. And then Google how much it even costs to mail a letter anymore because all you can find are stamps with reindeer on them from six Christmases ago.
All of that and you haven’t even started writing yet!
In summary, writing a letter is inconvenient. But that’s what makes it so beautiful. Inconveniencing yourself can be a gift to the child you sponsor. And it can also be a gift to you.
Every time I write a letter, I am sending the message “I care about you.” I care enough to find the paper and pen (or start up my computer and choose the perfect stationery if I’m writing online) and write and send you a letter. I care about you enough to sacrifice my time and my thoughts. I care enough to pause and think of you — only you — for a few moments. And what a beautiful gift that is!
And writing a letter is also a gift to me. It forces me to slow down. Breathe deeply. Think about this child that I’m writing to. Pray for her. Ask her questions that she may never answer just so she knows I want to know more about her.
When I sit and write a letter, I am fighting all the distractions around me. My favorite TV show or that load of laundry may be tempting, but I must remind myself that in just a few minutes I can stop, pick up my pen and tell a child in poverty they matter.
That’s why, once a month, I address a stack of envelopes and put them where I will see them every day on the corner of my desk. Some are to family who are feeling lonely and isolated. Others are to friends who live too far away. And at least one is to one of the children I sponsor. I paperclip a piece of stationery to those envelopes, I hunt for stamps and put my favorite pen on top of the stack.
And throughout the month, once a week or so, I inconvenience myself. I slow down. I pray for that person and I try to share words of truth and encouragement. And when I mail it, I feel a weight lifted.
Inconvenience, my friends, is such a gift.
Will you join me in writing the child you sponsor this month? Let them know you’re thinking of them and you care about them, especially in this year of difficulty and isolation!