The notecard

If you are looking for my Lost post, scroll on down…
I really don’t like getting the mail. It gives me a sense of dread about what demands lie hidden inside sealed envelopes.
Bills that need to be paid. A reminder about something I’ve forgotten. A meeting I need to attend.
I’ll admit it. Sometimes I leave my mail piled in a stack for days before I work up the courage to sort through the junk and take care of the letters that require my attention.
So, it was kind of unusual yesterday that I took a minute to open the mail right away. The first thing that caught my eye was a small envelope with my name and address hand-written on the front. There was no return address.
Hmmm. I can’t think of anyone who might be sending me a thank you card (although I still owe thank you notes to about 10 people). Maybe it’s a birthday card from my insurance agent. She’s one of the few people left who still sends a greeting that way instead of through Facebook or e-mail. Or an invitation? A home party, maybe?
I tore open the envelope and read the first line.

“Emily, you are such a blessing to me…”
What?! I was on the phone with my husband at the same time. While we were talking, I kept scanning the note to try to figure out what it was about. Who was it from? Why had they sent it?
No signature.
I looked at the envelope again. No return address. The postmark was blurred so I couldn’t even see from what town it might have been sent.
It must be from my secret sister. I think I remember reading in the secret sister description that we could send notes to each other in the mail. But wouldn’t she have at least signed it, “secret sister”?
Maybe it was an early birthday card. You know. You’re supposed to say nice things to people on their birthday. But wouldn’t it say, “Happy Birthday!”?
I read it again line by line.
“Thanks for sharing kindness to those who are insecure and have nobody.”
Really? Me? I have shown kindness to the insecure?
I don’t feel like I am that good at showing kindness to the insecure. I’m usually working so hard to battle my own insecurity that I’m afraid I come off as aloof.
I was so struck that this person saw that in me. Because seriously. That would be one of the Top 5 things I would want someone to include in my epitaph. “Loved Jesus. Wonderful Wife. Awesome Mom. Could stretch 5 pounds of ground beef into 10 meals (just kidding). Friend to the insecure.”
I continued to read.
Wow. Whoever wrote this note really had the gift of encouragement. It wasn’t just a quick one-liner, thank-you-for-doing-such-and-such kind of note. The writer had really taken some time composing her thoughts.
I was so curious that I put out a message on Facebook, hoping the writer simply forgot to sign her name. Another friend from my church responded that she also had received a note of encouragement in the mail that day. So, that means, it wasn’t from my secret sister. It wasn’t for my birthday. It wasn’t from a relative.
Someone wrote that note. For no reason. Just…. to be… nice.
I needed that. More than that person could know. And I just wanted to say, “thank you”. You inspired me. I hope I can follow your example and spread some encouragement, too.

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