My six-year-old daughter, Vivian, left this note for me for me the other morning.
What took her a few minutes to make now it sits on my shelf at work where I can see it, and it will bless me for weeks to come.
The other morning I wrote a little note to my oldest teenage daughter—just a quick something while I ate breakfast in the morning—and noticed it a few days later taped up in her room.
My wife and I keep a lined-book of our notes to one another: years and years’ worth of thank you’s and love you’s and sorry’s and appreciation and flirting. If the house caught on fire that book would be grabbed well before any computer or art.
Notes are often better than phone calls, greater than gifts, more continual than chocolate and enduring than dinners.
They can speak when we aren’t there, remind when we are absent, and live on after we die.
They give us an opportunity to open our hearts, communicate our love, and express appreciation (no matter how clumsily)—again, and again, and again—anytime the recipient re-reads them.
Kind notes take five minutes to write, and yet they can bless for five decades.
So who around you could use a kind note of thanks, love, encouragement?
In the time it took for me to write this, and for you to read it, we both could have written a note.
Do you know someone today who needs a word…
Maybe you could write a note. Just a quick something. Maybe you could do it right now.