For as long as I can remember, I’ve been writing letters.
It’s been my way of pulling close a world that sometimes feels too wide. I’ve written air-grams and emails, lovely long missives and brief correspondence notes to friends who live on other continents, as well as friends who live down the street.
It’s been my way of reaching out when words failed me in person: I used to tuck letters into my father’s briefcase, hoping to explain more coherently there the sacrificial love and the victory of Christ.
It’s been my way of making my hopes concise. I’ve written about defeat to graduate admissions committees and about creative independence to honors programs, because it was the closest I could come to looking a committee member directly and honestly in the eye.
And it is still my favored means of drawing attention to things I want to savor: the good, the noble, the joys worthy of great celebration.
Beginning in November, I’ll be writing letters again on a regular basis — to you.
These letters will likely be more personal than the blog posts and stem from the everyday heart of our home.
They’ll also share news about upcoming stories and writing projects, at times asking respectfully for your input, and most of all, they will be a continuing invitation to trace the truth and beauty of God’s glory where it is woven in our ordinary rhythms and routines.
If you’d like to receive these letters — I’m going to very simply call them Sun Steeped Letters for now — which will be sent every week or two, please let me know here:
As always, friends — thank you for stopping by.
This post is part of a 31 day series about Loving God as an Introvert.