It’s no secret that I’ve missed a few days. I’ve written 19 love letters so far, by my count, which is a lot more love than I usually write in a month.
But that puts me nine days behind, a failure at writing every day this month.
And yet I love the missed days.
So many of those days have been full of writing love in places other than here- on the hearts of my friends, family, church, and students. So many of those days have been filled with writing love on my own heart, with being loved so well by the people in my life.
In a month of writing about all the things I love, I cannot ignore all the ways I have been loved.
And that’s what the missed days have been.
I have been loved by my generous friends inviting me over for dinner and laughing with me and letting me into their lives. I have been loved by a sweet cousin who abundantly shares time and words and grace with everyone she encounters. I have been loved by family who send candy for Halloween, by students who write the most hilarious love notes, by strangers who tell me when I dropped my wallet.
To give love is only half the story.
And so I loved the missed days, because I have been loved so tenderly in them.
This post is part of my 31 days of Love Letters series. Click here to see the rest of the posts in the series.
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