“Do you want to walk the trail with me?” I asked my dear friend.
I wanted to hold her hand and skip down the lane. Could my heart contain the happiness inside? Or would it burst from joy? I hadn’t seen my dear friend in over 20 years. We’d moved to Spokane, Washington, in my mid 20s with the air force. We bought a home in the country and immediately formed a tight bond with a farming community. My friend, a farmer’s wife, welcomed me into her home, church, heart. We loved each other like sisters from the start and only had a short time together before we returned to Texas.
She and her family came to Texas to vacation last week (I want to think I influenced her a bit), and they spent New Year’s Eve with us.
We headed to the back property, released the sheep, and made our way around the trail. I couldn’t take the smile off my face, the definition of happy.
“Is that a mailbox?” my friend asked. “What’s that doing out here?”
It’s an acceptable question that I find myself explaining to everyone. We didn’t want to leave it behind, so we brought it with us when we moved. It was a truck, but it began to deteriorate over time, so we took off parts here and there, keeping the bare necessity. Now, it looks like a set of bulging yellow eyes staring at you. It’s planted right across from the swing.
“We write letters to each other … or at least, we used to. Like love notes. Now, it mostly holds used popsicle sticks, spider webs.”
The red flag stood tall. My husband pulled the handle down, revealing mail. Mail? Mail!
Three letters. One was addressed to: Mom (that’s me)
I opened it … from my Katelyn.
I teared up a tiny bit. I read it out loud to my friend, unable to share it fast enough. It was just one of those proud mama moments … raw, tender … for someone else to see the love your child really does have for you as a parent. Three paragraphs, three points, that pave the way for my 2017. And I’ll be glad to loan them to you, too.
I love you, Mom. Sorry for acting horrible when you guys want to watch something. I don’t know what’s got me agitated recently …
Mom, you need to keep writing. You are great at that (and everything else. You are the best mother someone could ask for). I love all the books you write.
You are the best thing anyone could ask for. Keep doing what you’re doing. I love you so, so much.
That’s my Katelyn. She doesn’t like watching TV much, she reads everything I write, and when she loves, she really loves.
I gave her a big hug when I got inside. “Katelyn, I loved my letter. When did you write it?”
“Six weeks ago.” She chuckled. “I thought you’d never find it.”
It took me six weeks to discover her love, her voice, her heart …
That’s not acceptable. But what beautiful timing. God-timing.
Father, take me down your path … the path … for me … for this 2017. Let me apologize more, encourage more, and love more. Keep my eyes open. Don’t let me miss opportunities. Don’t let me deteriorate. Father …
I want to go where you go.
|Karalee (kid lover), me (Word lover), and Katelyn (animal lover) from earlier in the year|
And y’all, life has been so crazy that I wasn’t sure I’d get a blog post written. I’d cherish your continued prayers for a close family member. And … Katelyn gave me her permission to use the letter. *Grin*
What other ingredients can you add for a happy new year?