As those of you know who have endlessly sung or heard "The Twelve Days of Christmas" song throughout December, on the fourth day of Christmas, someone's true love sent her "four calling birds," except they weren't originally "calling" birds -- they were "colly" birds which means they were black birds (but not, presumably, the four and twenty baked in a pie). I liked this image because I am still sending out Christmas cards -- more on that in a moment. I want to give credit where credit is due, and the artist who drew this allows for use in blogs with a proper link, so here it is:
http://fineartamerica.com/featured/four-calling-birds-j-ferwerda.html
I do not actually like to use the telephone. The advent of text messaging was a gift to me. I don't know why I don't like the phone -- maybe because I know how to start the conversation, but I've always found ending one awkward. However, I want to stay in touch with people. Facebook, with all its drawbacks, and e-mails have allowed me to reconnect with family (some of whom I have never met in person) and with friends in New Zealand, England, Thailand, and Russia to name a few.
Still, a card or a letter coming by what some of us now call "snail" mail is a delight and a treasure -- something beautiful to hold in one's hand, something to read and re-read and re-read again. I wonder how much we would know about the past if everything had gone through e-mails. Would I even have Frank Laubach's words (something I have been doing this past Advent and about which I have blogged) to ponder if he had sent them all back home via email?
One might think then that I am a great communicator. I am not. But I want to be. I try to be. I start off sending Christmas cards, squeezing in a few extra days via the twelve days of Christmas, and when I run out of Christmas days, I try to send a few more via New Year's Day. After that I hope to send out Valentine's greetings.
Why does it matter? People matter. People have been a part of my life since the day I was born, and while I can be excused for not being aware of their presence in the early years, I regret not being fully aware of the aliveness of each person in my life. Aliveness is probably not a word -- ohhh, it is, and I love it. It is an Old English word meaning "in life." I was not aware that people were in life and they were in my life!
Sandra Cisneros's book The House on Mango Street opened my eyes to thinking about people in my life and wondering where they are: Diane, Darcy, Victor, Salvador, Leslie, Cecilia…my house on Main Street; Kathy, Rachel, Joe, Elly…the big house on Westwood; Barbara, Steve, Tom…the little cabin on Pine Street (yes, I am not joking -- I did live in a little cabin) and on it goes. Some people I have reconnected with, especially those from my older years. And, so, I send cards and letters.
To say: You matter. You are important to me. You are beautiful.
