Love Letters From Here To Eternity by Tina Gibson

“Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.”  Romans 12:10 NIV

Our social media was snail mail.

We met in junior high, two totally opposite chicks with a whole lot in common.

Lease was wicked witty, sprinkled with wild wonder. She spoke out loud what I only dared to ponder. She introduced me to Springsteen, Thoreau, and Tab. When I got my first professional job, her coolness scoffed at "suntan" pantyhose, preferring bare legs (a choice I am still grateful for).

We talked about everything. Especially heaven. She was captivated by the mystery and spoke of it often, especially when I didn't want to. And, trust me, I didn't want to. Nevertheless, I always assured her it was a long time away for both of us.

God knows it’s good we don't know what we don't know.

When grown-up choices carried us to different parts of the country, we decided to up our status to sisters…cosmic sisters…a pact that proved our connection would surpass all earthly expectations.

Nothing can separate one another love.

It didn't take long for handwritten letters to replace random phone calls. Honestly, we didn't miss the chatter. There was something more profound that rose from the pages of our correspondence. Imperfections were shared, not judged. Transparency bloomed between the lines, growing our garden for over 30 years.

Yet, we weren't consistent with our correspondence. I learned that love doesn't keep a tally of giving and taking. It was what it was and it was beautiful.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-8a NIV

The evening darkness was interrupted by moonlight on that familiar mailbox. The day before, I stood silently as Mama's cemetery flowers attempted to comfort my orphaned soul.

When I pried open the lid of the mailbox, like a million times before, I was stunned to feel that same stillness. It immediately permeated my peace as my body started to shiver in the summer heat.

I slowly pulled out the solo envelope, recognizing the handwriting as well as the familiar scent of sorrow. I paused in that same moon shadow and lingered in the lull. Finally, I tore open the top and pulled out one pale piece of paper that screamed five excruciating words.

“Bad news. I have cancer.”

Without missing a beat, I turned my stunned into something familiar. I ran into the house and flew into fix-it mode. After all, I was a pro and quite proud of it. I’ve got you, Lease! What do you need? Anything! Just name it and I will make it happen!

Except, not this time.

Because I didn't have the tools for the job.

Because it wasn't my job.

It was God’s.

I wish I could tell you that spiritual realization was good enough for me. That I was overcome with an immediate sense of surrender and trust. But, my ability to relinquish control wasn't ready to leave quietly. 

It wasn’t ready to leave at all.

For weeks, I prayed for healing instead of heaven. I prayed for life instead of death. I prayed for a miracle because I knew He could give her one if he wanted to.

I prayed for everything, except what I knew He wanted me to pray for.

His will.

Have you been there too? Knee deep in the midst of your messy, trying to control every single detail of your uncontrollable? Yet, ultimately, whether seen in the now or in the eternal, our self-trusting attempts are futile against his faithfulness.

Amazingly, although we doubt His plans, we can always be sure of his love

In the pit of my will-be-done prayers for my girlfriend, I tearfully traded my will for his. And, as I let go of my selfish wishes for Lease, I met my own mortality. 

Her dying changed my living.

I discovered that my cancer-hating prayers were covered with Sovereign’s comfort-loving presence.

This brings me back to the mailbox.

In the months between her diagnosis and death, I left multiple voicemails and even a few emails. In my rush for immediate results, I temporarily misplaced our time-tested correspondence for right-now social media.

It’s easy to abandon the familiar in the desperation of the unknown, isn't it?

I knew what I had to do. I chose my favorite pen and the coolest stationery. Then, I wrapped up in a soft comforter of sweet memories and gave myself permission to bleed one another love all over that paper.

Dripping words upon words until nothing was left. Nothing, except love.

Why do we wait so long to say so much?

Why do we hold back words that demand a voice?

Dear one, let’s not wait for a devastating detour to shift our daily. 

Let's love one another right now.

As days turned to months, more Lease letters began to trickle back into my mailbox.

Her diagnosis had not changed, but her hope was in his hallelujah.

Her last letter said good-bye for now with three powerful words that nothing, not even cancer, can kill.

I love you.

Who needs to receive those words from you today, beloved?

Life is brief.

Time is tender.

One thing remains.

Love.

May we live it and give it generously to one another always.

“And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 

1 Corinthians 13:13 NIV