It’s that time again. The piles on my desk have grown into little towers of paper and miscellaneous items. Dust has settled on my overhead shelves as if it moved in and made itself right at home. Today I’m determined to tackle it. There’s something about cleaning, removing dust, that invites reflection. Perhaps it’s the slowing down. Or maybe it’s simply uncovering things we’ve forgotten.

As I reach to dust the shelf above my computer, my hand goes straight to my Memory Box without a second thought. I don’t even pause. I gently take it down and remove a layer of dust with a swipe of my hand. The box itself isn’t anything remarkable. It’s a well-worn floral cardboard box. But it holds decades of paper and ink. Notes, cards, and pieces of affection from across the years. Moments of love caught on paper, chosen for me.

As I lift the lid, I know I’ll spend the next hour or more sifting through memories, one handwritten message at a time.

Right on top sits a card I know by heart. The front is a delicate design, handmade by my cousin Kathy. She sent the card in early 1996. Later that year, she passed away. I was not prepared for her to leave. We thought we had forever. I still miss her just as much as I did the day she left.

We were four months apart in age. Side by side in childhood, sharing secrets, laughter, and a closeness that comes from being more like sisters than cousins. That bond held strong through the years, even as life scattered us into separate places.

I run my hand over the delicate design and open the card. Inside, her handwriting brings a smile to my face. I have read her note more often than I can count. Each time it seems her voice comes alive, and I hear her speak the words. I thank God she sent this card, and I kept it. It carries more than just words; it’s part of our story, our family bond.

There’s comfort in rereading old messages. I gently set Kathy’s card aside and dig deeper in the box to find birthday wishes, thank-you’s, anniversary and valentine love notes, thinking-of-you scribbles, and even a few sympathy cards. Some are lighthearted and make me laugh out loud. Others bring a smile. Each one carries a piece of the sender’s heart.

Why do I keep them? Why does it matter?

Because when discouragement creeps in, when my inner critic grows loud, the messages in these letters and cards stand as reminders that I am loved. That I mattered to someone who cared enough to write and send a card, even if it was only a few words.

They remind me how sacred relationships are.

In Luke 7, a woman, described as “a sinner,” enters the house of a Pharisee where Jesus is dining. She brings with her an alabaster jar of perfume. Kneeling at Jesus’ feet, she begins to weep. Her tears wash His feet, and she wipes them with her hair, then pours out the perfume in worship.

The room is uncomfortable with her display. But Jesus is not.

He receives her gesture with compassion. He defends her when the Pharisee criticizes her, saying, “her many sins have been forgiven, as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little” (Luke 7:47).

Her act was personal. Bold. It was unfiltered love and gratitude. And it mattered to Jesus.

I think about that woman. She didn’t assume there would be another opportunity. She didn’t hold back her appreciation or affection. She acted, fully and freely, and what she gave became a legacy of love recorded in Scripture.

How often do we think something kind about someone, yet never say it? How many times have we meant to send a card, but didn’t?

We assume we have time, or they already know how we feel. But life, as I’m reminded of when I hold Kathy’s card, doesn’t always offer more chances.

Use the opportunity you have to tell people what they mean to you. A handwritten note. Phone call. Text message. A cup of coffee shared between friends. Lunch at a quaint little restaurant. These are not trivial gestures. They are lifelines. Encouragement planted into someone else’s difficult day. Light spilling into their dark corner.

God did not create us to walk through life alone. He created us for community, connection, and for the comfort that comes from giving and receiving love. The apostle Paul often began his letters with deep expressions of gratitude. In Philippians 1:3, he writes, “I thank my God every time I remember you.” He didn’t assume the churches knew. He told them. Wrote it down. He made sure they heard it.

What a gift it is to be remembered, and to be told so.

Let’s dust off more than our shelves. It’s time to open our hearts where appreciation dwells but is left unspoken.

Don’t strive for perfection. Just write from the heart. Send the card. Speak the word. Because sometimes, the smallest things, like a card, a message in a familiar handwriting, a moment of love, take up the most room in our hearts.

And sometimes, they’re exactly what someone needs to keep going.

Reflective Questions (Community, Connection, Comfort)

1. Who in your life has shown you love or encouragement that you’ve never forgotten? Community.
2. Is there someone you’ve been meaning to thank or affirm but haven’t yet? Connection.
3. What small gesture can you make this week to remind someone they are valued and remembered? Comfort.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Let’s Pray

Father, thank You for those You’ve placed along our journey. Help us cherish them deeply and express that love while we have the chance. May our words build others up and point them back to You. Let us never miss the opportunity to remind someone they are valued. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Think about it. What are we called to do? Listen to the words of this song by Graham Kendrick, “Love Each Other“