Treasures of the Written Word

I have a mixture of modern and old-fashioned preferences in my communication habits. The instant communication that is now available allows me to do so much more than I used to do.  I have sometimes thought that the growth of the internet came about just in time for me to do international work. Facebook, LinkedIn and other social media sites enable me to keep up with friends, family and business acquaintances while I am out of the country. Sometimes an e-card is my only possibility to send a friend or family member a birthday greeting. I take advantage of all the online resources.

However, my real preference is old-fashioned paper and pen. I love to receive notes in the mail from friends and family and I still do the same for them. There is something about going to the mailbox, seeing my name on an envelope, a friend's name in the return address and the anticipation of what might be inside. That's actually my first love and I will never get over it (that is, unless the U.S. Post Office goes out of business)!

I never sent my father an email because he never owned a computer. In going through his things after he died, I found all the letters and pictures I had sent him from overseas. He kept every one and put them in a special notebook. Some he put his own comments on. As I read back through those letters, I could visualize his smile as he read the letters and saw the growth of my family. Although I am thankful that I wrote him fairly regularly, I wish I had written more. It was obvious he treasured those letters.

In my dad's last years, he started reminiscing about his days in World War II. Dad enlisted in the Army in May 1942. He was assigned to the Eighth Air Force, and served as a corporal in the 487th Bombardment Group. Desperately wanting to fly, Dad eventually had to give up that dream because of air sickness. He became a Link Trainer Instructor and served in England for most of his time overseas.

After hearing some of his stories, I asked him to write them down for me. I wanted to be able to have them and pass them down to my sons and their children. Dad did just that. The notebook he gave me is filled with notes of where he was, what he did, pictures taken during that time, maps, his address book and his honorable discharge on October 11, 1945. The pages of the notebook were typed on an old manual Underwood typewriter (which I also have) interspersed with handwritten notes. I wouldn't give anything for that notebook. It is a treasure.

My Heavenly Father wrote an entire book. I love it so much that I have several copies of it, with my notes interspersed throughout. Sometimes I feel like it was written just for me because I know He took special care to make sure it had all the information about Him I would ever need.

God's Word, the Bible, has sometimes been called God's love letter. I believe it is. What He has written is a treasure not only for me, but for all His children.

Thy word I have treasured in my heart, that I may not sin against Thee (Psalm 119:11 NAS).