The first Christmas card arrived today. And it occasioned this confession: I send cards out as I receive them.
It took me many years to get to this point. I used to send some 75-100 cards out each year. Eventually it dawned on me that though I received many, they often were not from the people to whom I had sent them. No, that woman I mt at the writing retreat whom I expected to be an occasional took the trouble to sign, address, and send a card to me long after I had sent my last card. Out to the store to buy more. Now, I send cards to those I truly love, to the business acquaintances who, I know, will return the favor, and then wait to see who gets their act together enough to work through their list till they get to me. Then I greet them back.
It's not the starry-eyed filled-with-good-cheer method of my younger days, but it is a way to acknowledge the ties that bind. And those I didn't know I was forming till I found a surprise in my mail.
Weaver's Knot by Glenda Bailey-Mershon 