I recently wrote THIS post on the delight of getting mail.....real snail mail....and many of you agreed that it is a delight and should be done more often.
In that same week our new Pastor at our new church (who had been the youth pastor at St Johns Shaughnessy when I was a youth and visiting Canada for 8 months back in 1988) told me he had a letter to show me.
He mentioned this letter again in passing and said I would enjoy reading it.
I was intrigued and a little worried.
And then one Sunday a couple weeks ago he handed me a letter I had written from South Africa to him here in Canada in 1989.
I didn't want to open it. My heart was literally hammering as I imagined what my 19 year old self could have written.
I extracted the letter, written on that familiar thin airmail paper, saw my still familiar handwriting, took a deep breath and began to fall through a time warp to 1989.
To my relief the writing was coherent and intelligent if full of the intensity and angst of a 19 year old feeling oddly displaced after a year of international travel and living in a country blowing apart.
It was clear I was missing Vancouver
Also so hard to be drawn back into the emotional maelstrom of what 1989 was like in South Africa
Sitting in the pew at St Johns Richmond - reading the words
That the plan for my life is unfolding as it was meant to....as it should.
When my heart quit hammering and I had time to ponder it all I felt amazed at the journey my life has been thus far......so incredibly grateful for a faith that has been a constant refuge through the mountains and valleys I have traveled.
I felt gratitude for innumerable people, places, experiences, jobs, moments that have filled my life.
And then as I was slipping the letter back in the envelope I saw the stamp.