We needed a reference letter from an “educator or councilor” for the kids scholarship applications and I asked my midwife and good friend (who MORE than fills both of those roles!) to write it for us. When I received her letter, her kind words made me cry.
Words are so incredibly important. Harsh words can cripple relationships instantly, while loving words can strengthen and build and change someone for the rest of their lives.
Jon’s brother recently came to visit and after he’d returned home, Jon called to tell him how much he loved him and how close he felt to him while he was here. That led to a long phone conversation – probably one of the longest they’ve have since Jon and I have been married – and the promise of many return visits. We haven’t gotten to see Jon’s brother and his family often through the years, and knowing that a simple phone call led to a renewed closeness between the two of them made me smile.
Several years ago, I sent an email to my step-dad just to tell him how much he meant to me and how thankful I was to have had him in my life during my formative years. Up until then, we’d spoken every now and then but weren’t terribly close (he and my mom divorced when I was about 13, and I was always “too busy” for him after that) but since then, we have developed a closeness I never could have dreamed of and am so thankful for. He and his wife have been the biggest champions of our farming adventure and have been our “sounding board” for just about every major farm-related decision we’ve made over the past two years. Jon told me just last night that he views Richard as a father figure and role model and looks up to him in many ways. Our lives have been permanently changed for the better thanks to he and his wife, and it’s no exaggeration at all to say that we wouldn’t be where we are today if it weren’t for them. Thanks, in part, to a simple email!
How many words have shaped who I am today? Who my children are? How many of my words will live after me, long after I’m gone? I guess that’s one reason I blog. So that future generations, future mothers and fathers and children who have “built their floors on my ceilings,” will have some part of me when I’m gone. They’ll know a little something of the struggles, the joys, the hurts and the small, seemingly inconsequential moments that have made me who I am today and, in some small way, contributed to who they are.