Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

Folded between faded newspapers and birthday cards were the notes I had written.

My husband and his family found them as they were cleaning out his grandmother’s house. I didn’t remember writing them.

But apparently I did. The notes didn’t contain anything monumental. Updates on a job search, plans for vacations, comments about the weather or an upcoming visit. In themselves, they weren’t anything special but, as with many gestures, it wasn’t the content that mattered as much as the effort.

I hardly ever write notes now. I dash off a lot of emails. A lot. I comment on Facebook posts and send invites by texts. But no one will tuck those into a dresser drawer for safekeeping. No one will pull out Facebook Messenger and hold the words in their hands on a sorrow-filled day. 

For many years, my mom was active in a card ministry. She bought notecards in bulk and placed them in the pew racks along with stamped envelopes. The idea was that people could write a note of encouragement and place it in the offering plate or take the pre-stamped envelope and card home to write and send the next day. Perhaps someone was mentioned during the prayers that you wanted to lift up. Maybe you saw a mother struggling with a young child or an elderly man obviously missing his newly deceased wife. The easy access to the notecards lessened the burden—perhaps clearing the path for folks to respond to the nudging of the Spirit. 

I wonder if we might all embrace a ministry of encouragement. I’d like to challenge myself to write (and send!) a card a week. Fifty-two people that I could encourage. Fifty-two times that I intentionally focus on someone else. Fifty-two opportunities to extend grace and love, to be Barnabas, the great encourager.