Reflection. Twenty Years On and the Words Still Speak to My Heart
How a simple box reminded me of the power of community and the friends who carried us.
I opened a box today I wasn’t planning to open.
I’ve been in a bit of a sorting season lately - piles of photos, old albums, clippings, drawings and little pieces of our family stories. A lot of it’s been consolidated or gone into labelled boxes and moved into a storage cupboard. But there was one box I kept out.
It was crammed full of cards and letters. Bookmarks. Little drawings. Handwritten notes. I’ve had it for over twenty years. Part of me thought maybe I should throw it out, or pass it on to the kids - though I wasn’t sure what they’d do with it either.
This morning, I opened it and I’ve just spent the last hour or so working through it piece by piece. It triggered a lot of emotion and so many memories.
As I felt the impact of this special little box, I started thinking about our Resilient Souls community and what we’re trying to do to support people journeying through pain and loss. You see, this wasn’t just a box of old cards and letters. It was a box that started to get filled during the darkest season of our lives. The contents were from the years when my first wife was diagnosed and began a long and difficult battle with cancer. I’d forgotten how many people wrote to us during that time. How often the letters came. How deeply we were held.
Inside were birthday cards people sent to Heather, cards that arrived right after bad news, messages that came from overseas, from old friends she hadn’t heard from in decades, from retired people, from families, from our church, from people whose names I barely recognised or barely knew.
There were thousands of words on cards, bookmarks, notes and letters. I could feel the love in every different handwriting style, in the carefully chosen words, the special Bible verses, and the beautiful, thoughtful, personal messages.
There were also little drawings from children whose parents were teaching them how to care for someone who was hurting. Verses chosen with such intention. Poems. Long, thoughtful letters. Quiet prayers written in ink.
Love often arrives quietly, tucked inside an envelope.
What impacted me most were the cards from our kids.
Colourful ones with flowers, drawings and beautiful words from Ashley.
Little thoughtful notes from Josh – always signed ‘From your loving son, Josh’
And one from Luke when he was so little that I had to write his words for him that simply said, “Hope you get out of hospital soon, Mum.”
That one undid me.
This box took me back to our life all those years ago. Three little kids trying to make sense of something enormous, and a community trying to help carry what we couldn’t.
As I read through the cards, names kept appearing. Faithful people. Some I remember vividly. Some I’d forgotten. Some have passed away. Some families are no longer together. Some are elderly now. Some are younger than I was then. And some kept writing over and over again, Robyn, Jan, Fiona, Peter and Pam, Kizza … and many more.
Every letter was a reminder: we weren’t alone.
We are carried more often than we realise.
During the nights when we felt so lonely and isolated, we weren’t. During the days when we had no words left to pray, others prayed for us. When our world shrank to hospitals and difficult news, people cracked open the door and stepped in with kindness, often through the letterbox at exactly the time encouragement was needed but we lacked the energy to generate it ourselves. This box and all it contained reminded me of something I’ll never stop believing: that a community’s quiet, consistent love can help hold a family together when everything is falling apart.
I still don’t know what to do with the box. But I know what it represents.
It represents faithfulness - God’s and other people’s.
It represents a community that helped carry us.
It represents love that didn’t look away even when it wasn’t sure how to turn up.
It represents the way my children learned what it means to stay with someone through a storm.
Some of the letters were from Heather’s parents. Some from mine. Some from people now gone. Some from people we haven’t seen since. But every single one mattered.
And after all these years, opening them again mattered too.
So, if you’re reading this and you’re going through a storm - please, reach out to let your community, your friends, your family know what’s going on. Tell them it’s tough right now and that you’re not sure what to do next. You may be surprised at the love that comes to you when you crack the door open even a little.
And if you’re someone who knows a family member or friend - even a distant friend from long ago - who is hurting, and you don’t know what to do? Write! A card. A letter. A small note. A verse. A memory. A single sentence that says, “You’re not forgotten.”
Emails and messages are wonderful, but there is something about a handwritten card or letter, something personal and intentional and deeply human that adds an extra layer of connection.
Sometimes God’s comfort looks like the handwriting of a friend.
This morning, two decades later, those cards reconnected me to the people behind them. I recognised the handwriting of many, remembered the faces and stories, and felt again the love those messages shouted at us in the hardest of times.
To every person who walked with us through those years - thank you.
To those who prayed when we couldn’t, who stayed when things were messy, who wrote when our world felt impossibly complex and lonely - thank you.
Your words carried us then.
And today, they carried me again.
And to anyone reading this: Be that friend. Be that presence. Stay the course.
You’ve no idea how far your kindness may travel or how long it might last.
Before you read on, just take a moment.
Think of the people who have helped carry you through a difficult season in life, or the people you have helped carry.
Let their names come to mind and give thanks, and remember we don’t get through storms on our own.
From Reflection to Action:
If you’re the one in pain…
1. Tell one trusted friend or a group of friends what’s going on. Don’t wait until you can say it perfectly; just be honest. You might be surprised at how they respond.
2. Let people know what you need: a prayer, a visit, a call, a coffee, a meal, or simply to be remembered. If you can, keep people informed to guide them as to where things are at. I used to do this in an email update and that’s largely what led to the box of cards I’m sure.
If someone you know is in pain…
1. Don’t hesitate - reach out. Let them know you care. Even if it’s been years since you last spoke, your message will matter.
2. Send the card. Write the letter. Choose the verse. Put it in the mailbox – you will have no idea what it might mean when they check their letterbox and find your words of love and support.
3. Keep checking in (or write notes), even if the immediate crisis has passed.
NB: Actions like this – even if they seem small and you’re not quite sure what words to say, can carry enormous weight. You just never know who’s collecting these messages of love and encouragement and hope and placing them in their own box because it’s touched them deeply.
A Gentle Invitation
I usually have a small section in my posts encouraging people to listen to the Resilient Souls podcast. And while it might look like promotion, it’s never about that. It’s about hearing the stories of others - not just mine.
As I sat with this box today, I realised that almost every Resilient Souls episode holds a very similar theme:
There were people who showed up in a variety of ways.
People felt carried by others who travelled with them - even when it was from a distance (or through the letterbox).
People’s company on the journey and words of love and encouragement often whispered to them, “You’re not forgotten.”
If you’re walking through a storm or love someone who is, I’d gently encourage you to choose an episode and see that this is not just about my ideas or my experience.
Listen to how others travelled through what felt like impossible seasons and learn how friends, family and communities provided support and encouragement.
Let these stories remind you that you’re not alone, and that your presence might be the difference for someone else.
Bible Verses for the Weary Heart:
Psalm 34:18 (NIV): - “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Isaiah 66:13 (ESV): - “As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you.”
Galatians 6:2 (NLT): - “Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.”
Deuteronomy 31:6 (NIV): - “He will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Beautiful words Stewart and so many memories of your wonderful little family.
May the Lord bless you and keep you and those you hold dear.
Beautiful reflection and encouragement Stewart