Since last April, I have kept a journal–a collection of love letters written to my husband. The economy is bad and we can’t afford much. Everything we do is because we planned for and spent cash for it. It’s not easy. Even our first anniversary was celebrated humbly.
So today I gave him my heart in tissue paper, bound in a journal for his birthday.
It marks several months of moments I don’t want to forget that link our hearts together. In the business of the everyday we could forget and allow the trivial moments to get in the way. In the pain of trials, we shove aside the laughter to make room for the tears and frustrations. At the end of the day, we come together, still as much in love as we were when we first met, and dedicated to the Lord as we were when we became baptized together.
The journal marks texts sent to each other, conversations we had in the dark and quiet nights, and thoughts I want him to remember if I should go Home before he does so he isn’t alone. In any economy, its better than any gift money can buy.