I know it is cliche to say "better late than never." Like all cliches it is said so often because there is truth at its core. In the past three months I have learned that sometimes late is not only better than never...but late can be perfect timing.
For weeks after Jonah died we received so much mail. I longed for the mail to come, because it gave me strength. Cards, letters, money...some from dear friends, some from acquaintances, some from total strangers. It was overwhelming and beautiful and kind. I was so grateful that people took the time to write a note or email and let me know of their grief at Jonah's passing. It helped me to know that friends prayed for us, and wept with us. Gradually this mail has tapered off. When I go to the mailbox now I find the usual...ads, bills, etc... But every so often I get a card or a note about Jonah.
I wonder when I open these cards if the author was hesitant to send it. Maybe she thought she was too late, that she should have acted sooner. But the arrival of these notes is perfect for me. As the world moves on and I have fewer natural conversations about my beautiful boy, I am so grateful that someone is thinking of him, that someone is thinking of me.
I often feel like time is sweeping me down a swift river and I have left Jonah on the shore. No matter how I try I cannot fight the current that pulls me away from his existence. Another cliche...time marches on. There is no stopping the progress of life, no going back. These simple notes are like calm pools of water where I can stop for a moment. They are a resting place. They bring me hope and usually make me cry. I need moments that make me cry. Sometimes I can't cry on my own.
If you are a sender of tardy notes, thank you. Thank you for sending your love to me, whether quickly or slowly. I truly need it. I hope you will remember that beautiful words, and kind acts are always needed. It is never too late.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1