Sunday Night Ministries

My sister and I lead hectic professional and personal lives. She travels frequently for work; I end up out a lot in the evening with friends and church-related activities. But most Sunday evenings, you’ll find us together, sitting on the couch, writing.

I’m not talking about novels or short stories or essays or devotionals. I’m talking about the lost art of person-to-person, written-out-in-longhand, writing.

My sister participates in Postcrossing, through which people from around the world exchange postcards. She’s had cards from much of Europe and Asia as well as North America. (Africa and South America, get on the stick, would you?) She sends out as many as eight cards a week, writing notes about her life here or about her travels or dreams of travel to the recipient’s country. Online friendships have sprung up between my sister and some of the recipients. It turns out they share a profession, or an interest, or a passion. It’s a small thing, but she hopes that this effort helps people in the world understand that we’re all the same, with dreams and challenges, no matter where we live.

Me, I write note cards. They primarily go to our older relatives, but it’s also the time I write get-well, praying-for-you, and bereavement cards. The note cards aren’t great storytelling; generally, it’s more of a “this is what’s going on here, hope all is well, I remember the time you…” thing. But as my father was fond of saying in his later years, it’s about quantity, not quality. He demanded we write him weekly. I seldom met his demand, and there’s probably some atonement/reparation in my notes schedule today.

I don’t think my cards will change people’s lives in a big way, anymore than my sister thinks her postcards will. I hope mine bring a smile and a laugh or two. And maybe that too can change the world in a small way.