Tag Archives: emeraude

A Woman of Letters

Posted on by

I have no letters after my name.
No MSW, no PhD, no MDiv.
Just plain old me.
But, let me tell you, I’ve got letters.
Boxfuls of letters.

There is a box in my closet labeled “Montana Letters.” It is full of crinkly old papers covered with spidery long-hand penmanship. Somehow, these letters traveled from Montana to Wisconsin between 1899-1906, probably by train and wagon. They were written by my great-great-grandma Harriet to her daughter, my great-grandma, Kate. Faded two cents stamps on the envelopes are postmarked with a place and date. The letters were passed down from generation to generation and survived in musty basements for 120 years. I treasure them now, but at the time, they weren’t anything special. Just updates on the family, reports on how the crops were doing, and longings to see each other again.

But that’s not all.

I compiled all the letters my dad wrote to his parents during his Navy days aboard the USS Fanshaw Bay during WW2 and bound them into a book titled “Letters Home: 1944-1946.”

In another box, there are more envelopes secured by a rubber band. These are letters PB and I wrote back and forth as we were falling in love and anticipating marriage. They still smell like Emeraude perfume.

I have postcards my kids wrote home during their week at Camp Lucerne. “Mom, I forgot to pack socks so I’ve been wearing the same pair all week.”

There are several plastic storage totes full of cards and notes I have received over the years from family and friends—the ones with a heart-felt message written by hand. They mean something, still.

God is the original writer, using His finger to inscribe words into a rock.
“He gave Moses the two flat stones on which he had written all his laws
with his own hand.”
Exodus 31:18

Twenty-one books of the Bible started as letters.
I’m grateful Paul didn’t have the option of texting or emailing his messages to the churches.

“Your very lives are a letter that anyone can read by just looking at you.
Christ himself wrote it—
not with ink, but with God’s living Spirit;
not chiseled into stone, but carved into human lives.”
2 Corinthians 3:3

Are you inspired to write a real live letter?
Send me a message and I’ll give you my mailing address!
dinah.overlien@gmail.com

Emeraude

Posted on by

Some years, I find the perfect Christmas gift.  Some years, I don’t.  I nailed it this year.  PB opened the present from me and thought it was some stinky men’s cologne.  Without even looking at the bottle, he thanked me and set it down.  I smiled and said, “Oh, honey, that’s not men’s cologne.  You’d better smell it.”   With a curious look he lifted off the top and took a whiff.  Immediately, his eyes got a far-away, glazed-over look and somebody said, “What’s wrong with dad?”

Here’s the rest of the story:  In 1974, my brother was asked to lead the youth part of a weekend retreat at a church several hours away, so I went along for the ride.   The first person I met when we arrived was the pastor’s cute sixteen year old son.  In the following 48 hours, we got to know each other and flirted a little bit.  Ok, a lot.  Even at fourteen, I knew what I wanted in a guy — he had to have a strong faith in God, he had to sing, and he had to be good-looking.  Check…..check……check.   After the potluck dinner on Sunday afternoon, we exchanged addresses in the fellowship hall and promised to write.  (I’m referring here to letters.  No email, texts or Facebook chats.  Gosh, I feel old suddenly.)

A flurry of mail went back and forth over the next few months.  He used his best handwriting.  I sprayed my envelopes with Emeraude.  Hence, the far-away, glazed-over look this Christmas Eve.

Scent has a powerful connection to memory in our brains.  The sense of smell is sometimes called “nasal nostalgia” because we have strong associations of past memories with certain scents.  When God gave Moses instructions on building the tabernacle, He included a recipe for incense (Exodus 30:34-38) that was to be used exclusively at the place of worship.  Just one whiff of that spicy fragrance, and the Israelites were aware that they were entering the presence of the Lord.

Just one whiff of Emeraude, and PB was back in 1974, falling in love with me.