Each Christmas, Mom used to write out and mail dozens of
Christmas cards. She’d include an individualized message and sign them, “Merry
Christmas! Love, Mike, Jean and the girls.” I guess that’s where I inherited my
love of writing out Christmas cards. Even as a teenager, I used to pass them
out to friends and I haven’t stopped since. Years ago, more people were like
me. I could count on receiving at least two dozen Christmas cards each season.
Some had wise men. Some had snowmen. But all came filled with the love of
friends and family. Now, it seems Christmas cards have gone the way of the
typewriter. And landline phones. Sigh. I miss them, those brightly colored
pieces of cardstock with scripture and seasonal sayings. Sure, all through the
year I keep up with loved ones via emails, texts, and phone calls, but there’s
something special about receiving a card that was chosen just for me and
includes the sender’s thoughts in ink. Somehow, their words just seem more
permanent that way. So do mine. That’s why last night, I gathered my varied
colored pens and boxes of cards and glittery stickers and snuggled up to write holiday messages to
some of my favorite folks, some of whom I haven’t seen in years. Others I saw
today or talked to this week. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I let
each of them know how special they are and that I send them all the love and
joy of both my heart and Jesus’ by simply wishing them a “Merry Christmas!”
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