I saw on the news that Britain has a new minister.  A loneliness minister.  They line up volunteers to call and visit on the phone, or write letters, with people who have no family close by--or who are shut ins.  Just to talk. I understand the value of contact with people.  When you are in the last quarter of your life, all of your children are gone with families and children of their own.  And sometimes your health isn't good so you don't get out much.  Thus, time sometimes drags.

And if you don't have hobbies or outside interests where you come in contact with other people, it does get lonely.  I try to stay involved and busy, but many older folk can't for one reason or another.  And they end up isolated in their homes.

When I was growing up, people sat on their front porches, or walked around the neighborhood stopping to visit.  Everyone knew all of their neighbors.  There weren't any TVs, iPads, laptops, cell phones, or other distractions--so people interacted with other people.

Now, however, people stay glued to their phones.  Texting.  Last week, when I was going through boxes looking for a story I had written, I came across all the letters Ken had written me.  The next generation won't have letters.  That makes me sad.

Letters are a wonderful thing.  They capture a moment in time when a person just wanted to stay in touch and describe their circumstances.  The weather, who married who, and on and on.

Ken and I had many,  times to communicate by letter.  He was gone twice in twelve years for over 13 months each time.  And numerous times for two or three months.  Deployed.  We wrote.  Very seldom missing a day.  I kept his letters.  He didn't keep very many of mine--I wish he would have because I wrote stories about our children.  But I can understand why he didn't.  Hard to keep things like that when you live in a tent.

I'm glad someone kept Paul, Peter, James, etc. letters.  We can read them and know how difficult it was to be a Christian.  And how they encouraged each other.  I love letters.  There is nothing quite like going to the mail box and finding a letter addressed by hand. (Thank you Amy Smith.)