I send letters. And cards, and postcards, and manila parcels and care packages. This goes way back for me, a fact unearthed by the stack of letters and cards and drawings I have found in the attic that I left for or sent to my parents here and there from about age five.
Sending a letter is a real act of faith for me. I have ripped open a letter and then resealed it after all and sent it anyway. I have ripped open letters ready to be sent and thrown them into the fireplace without a second thought. I have thrown them into flames with much anguish. I have dropped them down the mail chute only to stress for days afterward. I have kissed them and dropped them in with blessing on my lips.
I feel strongly that it’s God’s charge to send forth Light from within me, and that’s why I reach out in such a “vintage way” when it’s such a dying art. I am compelled to write. I have never been able to keep a journal for myself, but I have probably written enough cards and letters to fill volumes. It's like a journal that is scattered across the country, and sometimes the world. It's also like a prayer. I will often wake with a name or two on my mind and I can't rest until I have touched pen to paper for that person.
So in my letter writing I have experienced the whole range of emotions about what God has in mind. If you have known me for long, and if I know your address, you have probably received something from me in the mail. If you haven't yet, it's just a matter of time. If I have written you, you may have thought, upon opening it, "What the...?" Or you may have thought, "That's just what I needed!" But either way, I have been led to affix that stamp for the sake of Light-bearing, and my intentions are good and filled with love.
Only occasionally have I sent a letter that could have been my temporary undoing, but sometimes this has brought great healing to a broken or frayed relationship, and I have been so glad I let go of the fear and followed the Light. Sometimes I have been met with silence. And that's okay. Because I know I didn't write casually, and that if silence is meant to be, then Amen.
I will keep writing when nudged, in every physical inky way as long as I am compelled, or until the postal service is gone for good. And I hope to continue to see blessings ripple back in waves of connection and support and delight, as I have for decades so far. Want to be pen pals? Pal is just another word for Friend, after all. Maybe "Penn Pals"?
— Anne Marie Bowman Bracco
Where I Sit to Write to You, by Anne Marie.