taking the time

The clock seemed to tick faster that day. There was an unplanned trip to the pediatrician and a needed phone conversation that carried on until after lunch. It was my father’s birthday and I rummaged through a box of cards I’d collected, hoping to find just the right one to sign and hand him that evening. But of course there was no perfect card. I knew he wouldn’t mind a quick note on a blank notepad. My father understands that life is busy with three children.

 But in that moment my mind twirled backwards to years ago. Memories of homemade cards, adorned with aluminum foil hearts and stick figures dressed in bright-colored ruffles. Our family never bought real cards, instead we scribbled our own. They were the first love notes tucked into my hand.

So I gathered up a few pieces of construction paper and cut out a couple lop sided hearts. I taped and glued and drew. And I filled it with words I don’t say often enough.

And because life is sometimes frenzied, I choose to fire off emails instead of picking up a pen and paper. I scamper down the bakery aisle selecting a dozen perfectly peaked cupcakes for a friend in need, instead of taking the time to mix and sift batches that are fantastically flawed.     

Lord, please help me choose connection over convenience.   

 When I connect with those I love, it is never wasted time. It says: You are worth the extra minutes. You are worth capturing creativity. You are worth the sacrifice. And you are more important than me.

 And giving it away feels good.


6 thoughts on “taking the time

  1. And the card is still right by my recliner; read more than once; appreciated more than you’ll ever know and will be a treasured memory and keepsake forever. Hallmark can’t touch your love and creativity.

  2. What a wonderful post! I have often wanted to forsake the modern way of communicating for good old fashioned letter writing but strangely as passionate as I feel about it I don’t seem to do it. 🙂

    I’m inspired!

  3. My mom saved many of my homemade cards from childhood. I still have them tucked away in a drawer and have to grin whenever I discover them again. They were filled with love, but I wasn’t a poet. LOL!

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