The yellowed paper, soggy and wet, laid spongy on the narrow muddy path. I carefully scooped it up, examining the light faded writing.
Where I am going, you cannot come. Soon, I will return to take you with me. I deeply love you, and though I seem very far away, I am as close to you as your heart. Don’t let your heart be troubled. Where I am, you will be too, very soon.
But there was no signature. Love who? Dearest who? No one was on the path that I could see, and the letter looked old, maybe because it was damp and soiled?
The sun was shining now, after the rain, and a beautiful rainbow boldly claimed the sky, arching with bright hues of color. I walked a steady pace to get home, tucking the wet paper into a fold in the pocket of my coat.
I opened the front door, took off my wet jacket, and sat down to read. I opened my Bible, thinking something was familiar about that letter. The book opened to John 14:3: “And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.”
This piece of paper I had found reminded me of that loving verse spoken by Jesus. Was this dropped from the sky on this rainy morning to remind me of the promise he made? Was this my love letter?