If you tell God no because He won’t explain the reason He wants you to do
something, you are actually hindering His blessing.
But when you say yes to Him, all of heaven opens to pour out His
goodness and reward your obedience.
What matters more than material blessings are the things
He is teaching us in our spirit.
Charles Stanley
(my godpoppa and me on the day of my wedding–with Mother looking on,
he was the priest who presided over my wedding in 1983)
I use to write letters.
Real letters with a real pen and real paper.
Real words.
Real scratched out mistakes.
Numerous misspellings.
Typos.
Grammatical errors.
There was no spell check—only a dictionary.
Sometimes your letters were typed, sometimes written by hand.
Mine were always by hand.
I use to write you so many letters.
You use to write to me as well.
I still have a box with so many of those letters and cards.
If the truth be told, we really meet through a letter, you and me.
In 1975.
I still have the card you sent.
When I went away to college, I use to sit at the bus stop writing feverishly before the bus arrived,
whisking me off to yet another class miles across campus.
I’d sit in the park, back propped against an ancient oak tree, writing.
I sat up late on the night before my wedding, writing.
We wrote one another long before there were computers…
ages before there was texting.
We wrote on paper and cards.
We put stamps on envelopes and we put letters in a post box.
We would each excitedly spot that telltale script…written and addressed
with our name—
it would arrive in the day’s mail.
I checked my box at least twice a day.
Wonderment and even excitement filled our thoughts.
We’d each steal away…to a quiet private place as we’d tear open the postmarked envelope.
Savoring the “Dearest Jules” or the ‘Dearest Godpoppa”
Apprehensive and anticipatory wonder mixed with anxiousness…
coupled with a deep sense of joy…
accompanied the arrival of each letter and every card.
What was the word?
What was the news?
What was the need?
What was the advice?
We wrote for nearly 40 years…back and forth…just you and me.
The subject matter growing often hard and difficult with time.
Those letters…the writing and the receiving.
The intimate words shared between a surrogate father and his adopted goddaughter.
The pouring out of the most sacred and secretive thoughts from the novice to the wizened
sage.
Confessions.
Encouragement.
Idle chatter.
Hope.
Love.
Compassion.
Warnings.
Advice.
You were born in 1922
You were adopted in 1923.
I was born in 1959
I was adopted in 1960
Lessons taught and lessons learned.
And yet now, now when I need to hear from you the most, how do I write to Heaven?
How do I address such a letter?
What would you tell me now…how do I proceed?
What should I do?
What would you say?
I’ll be waiting…and I’ll be listening.
Somehow I know you know.
“Out of the heavens He let you hear His voice to discipline you;
and on earth He let you see His great fire, and you heard His words from the midst of the fire.
Deuteronomy 4:36
cookiecrumbstoliveby 