I went to the post office. There were two hand written thank you notes. What a joy that people still carve out the time to send them. I love how cozy it feels to have the circle completed like that.... I make a meal for a young family, or send a baby gift, and the busy mom sends me a pretty card.
There are plenty of things
I do that never rank a thank you. But mostly I still do them. Perhaps it is habit, or a preference for clean plates, but every day I whittle away at the clutter and piles of tossed jeans.
There is a place for doing things with no chance of reward. In high school I had a jag of putting anonymous gifts in my friends' lockers, signed "The Secret Admirer." It was a thrill to watch my girlfriends find them and giggle about who could have done it. I did my best to look as
perplexed as they were. I never sent one to myself, so if they thought for more than six seconds they probably could have solved the identity question.
But appreciation with a name attached is good in another way. When I try to support my busy husband and kids by leaving a pile of fresh clothes to wear, I like having them receive the message, wrapped in undershirts, that I love them. I suppose a sappy letter and map to the basement where the washing
machine is would say it too, but on a hectic morning perhaps the finished chore comes in handy.
I notice that God is generous with His expressions of love. The birds singing this morning delivered a message as genuine as any Hallmark card. Many of His missives are signed "Secret Admirer" too, but if I think for more than six seconds I know who sent them.
