Saturday, July 16, 2011

First Letters

I have always loved letters. For me, there is something so personal about seeing someone's hand-written words. It takes time and concentrated effort. Someone has to think about you while they are writing to you. They have to decide what information to share with you, and what words they will choose to share their thoughts. Maybe I'm the only person who feels this way, but I really doubt it.

Today, I received two letters. They were a complete surprise. Which is really strange because I've been waiting for at least one of them for over a month. But today when I walked to the mailbox, there was no anticipation. I had done a little guesswork math a few days ago and decided that a letter probably wouldn't come until August. However, I had done a little praying yesterday when I was disturbed by the first signs of waning passion. I had been waiting for one letter. The other one I was sure would take a few more months. I got them both, one from a fairly remote village in Guatemala and one from the largest city in the Philippines. I didn't even go into the house to read them. I sat in the back of the car and ripped them open, read them, gushed over them, and then I took them inside to read them to the girls and Sonny.

The first letter was from Lordylien, our 11-year-old from the Philippines. I got to learn the names and ages of her family members, her favorite things, and her future dreams (she wants to be a chef!). I also learned that she loves to dance and is in a dance group at school. My second letter is from the little girl chosen by Kayla, Yeimi. She is five-years-old and from a Mayan village in Guatemala. There was a small picture of her that I didn't expect. She's unbelievably precious. Since she is young, someone else wrote her letter. I learned that she has a younger brother. She said that she is very happy, that she loves us, and wants us to love her, too. As if I ever had any choice about that. My favorite part, though, was a small drawing of a house, the sun, and a flower, because that was all her and required no translator.

Passion crisis averted.

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