Every day after school, as a child—before the days of home computers and email—I’d run to the mailbox outside our house on Olathe Way and hope there might be a letter addressed to me. It didn’t matter whether it was my birthday or a holiday, I faithfully checked the mail every single day in hopes of finding a hand-addressed envelope with my name on it. Sometimes it was from a grandparent or cousin. As I got older, letters would come from friends I’d meet on various vacations, at summer camps, or from college friends. In college, letters were our lifeline to home. With only one shared telephone on each dormitory floor and having to use a pay phone for long-distance calls, the daily trip to the campus post office to look for a letter or a care package was the highlight of my day. The joy of letters and packages is unlike anything else.

Mail was exciting before the days of text and emails. People actually wrote and mailed cards and letters on a regular basis. There’s something about opening the mouth of a metal cylinder perched on top of a post and peering in as if to find a treasure.

Even more exciting than a letter was one with an envelope that’d been decorated or made out of something different, such as pages from a book or magazine.

In high school and college, I’d correspond with friends and cousins by making my own envelopes, folding a letter into a page from Victoria Magazine, affixing a piece of paper with an address, and then putting a stamp on it. My sister sent me letters in college with drawings on the outside of the envelope.

But the most awe-inspiring and impressive envelope art I’ve ever seen is by my great-uncle Al.

ENVELOPE ART

Uncle Al was married to my grandfather’s sister, Thelma. He was very tall and thin, and Aunt Thelma was short and petite (like me). They were quite the pair, and I’d see them a couple times a year at a family reunion, anniversary, or birthday party. At one of our family gatherings, someone mentioned envelope art they discovered in a box or cedar chest. Out of curiosity, I peeked over the adults’ shoulders. What I saw was nothing short of stunning!

Inside the cedar chest were dozens of beautiful envelopes decorated with intricate artwork. Letters sent to my Aunt Thelma in 1938-39, in their early days of courtship.

I never forgot those envelopes, and I suppose it was the impression they made that inspired me to create my own envelopes from magazine pages as a teenager. For my sister, it inspired her creativity by drawing on the envelopes she sent me during my college days.

Most of us had no inkling that Uncle Al was an artist of this caliber. Uncle Al shrugged it off as nothing more than a little doodle.

What intrigues me the most about these letters by my great-uncle is the thought and time that went into it. With each stroke, he was thinking of my aunt Thelma.

LETTERS SAY, “I LOVE YOU”

You don’t have to say much in a letter. Sometimes, we assume that the only reason to write a letter is if we have something important or interesting to say. The very act of holding a piece of paper in our hands, with words written by hand, conveys the message of value and love. One person thought of another enough to spend time penning thoughts on paper and then sharing them. It’s love on paper. Love in action. When we open a mailbox and see a hand-addressed envelope, our heart skips a beat as we think, “Someone thought of me!” That’s the joy of letters.

When you and I write a letter to someone, we are sharing a treasured and valuable piece of our lives with them: our time. And that speaks volumes, even if we’re talking about the weather.

The greatest and most valuable asset we have, above money, is our time.

It’s easy to send a text that took 10 seconds or an email that was written hurriedly between tasks. Because of the hurried, distracted mindset inherent to texts and emails, I find that most of the time, I’m not even thinking about what I’m writing or sending. But to sit at a table and put a pen in our hands, each stroke requiring attention, we are forced to slow down and intentionally think about the person we are addressing. I don’t know about you, but I could use more time thinking about others and not just myself.

JOY DOUBLED

Here’s the real beauty of letters: the joy of letters goes both ways.

It may be awkward at first if it’s been some time since you’ve written a letter (if ever), but after that first letter, you find you want to write more because we enjoy thinking about our friends and loved ones.

My mother sent me a letter not long ago, writing about her day, the weather, what she was doing around the house. You know what? I loved every word. Even though we spoke on the phone, it felt as if I was getting to know her better through the little things she did during the day. I was surprised by how intimate it could be writing about the nothings of our day.

In the same way, writing about the little things of my day and sharing them with another brings a sense of relaxation and letting go. There is something very therapeutic about writing letters.

Why not take a few moments today to send a letter to a friend or relative about the nothings of your day? You will bring delight to them and to you!