Dear God,
Dr. Romance reporting in on this cold, wintry day! The sleet has started to fall making the sidewalk from the cottage to the little casa quite treacherous. As for me, I am snug as a bug with a fire going in the fireplace and El Divo music dancing through my head.
There are times when I just know that you place things and people in my life as special gifts. A few weeks ago, I took out the love letters that my dad wrote to my mom during WWII. Since February is the month of love, I thought I would share this letter written Febuary 21, 1945 from the Grand Hotel in Paris...
February 21, 1945
My Darling,
Don't fall over now but, Love, I am in Paris. Honey, I sure was a lucky guy. Only two of us got passes to out of the company. It was Mullens and me. Mullens is the Ass. Motor Sgt. and he sure is a swell guy. Honey, guess your Sweetheart must rate in the company ~ there I go bragging again.
Well, I always said when I was over here I would like to see Paris. We sure have seen a lot of scenery and boy some of it is beautiful. We take the subway so it doesn't take long to get someplace. We got lost the first time we rode on the subway but now we've caught on how to go so we really get around the city.
I was going to buy some things but Honey you have got to be a millionaire. I did get you a bottle of perfume so I'll send it as soon as I get back. I hope you like it.
We are staying in a big hotel. It is just fun just being away on a pass but it sure is nice to sleep in a bed and white sheets. My gosh I haven't slept in them for ages. Boy it will feel good to get home and sleep in a good bed again. Okay, Honey? We can sure cuddle up then can't we. Honey, if that day would only come soon.
Boy, am I ever happy I got this pass 'cause I sure was sweating out that Rhine Crossing. The big push in on now. I hope none of my dear old buddies weren't hurt or killed. Boy, I hope they knock out the Germans on this drive. Maybe the end will come soon.
Honey, I hope, I hope, and I hope 'cause I want to come home to you. No matter where I go I always have my Babe in my mind. Honey I could never forget you. No I couldn't, not a sweet gal like you.
Today we are going out to the Eiffel Tower. Some of the boys were out there and said it was so nice. Gee Honey, I sure have enjoyed this trip here. It is so good to get away from all that shelling so you can see how happy I am going to be when I come home to you.
No Hon, I guess the boys want to go. Honey girl, I love you and I am being true blue to you. I just couldn't be anything else. So bye for now.
I love you so much. Your own
Ernie
LORD, I am sitting her bawling like a baby. To know how much my parents loved each other means so much to me. The battles fought were fierce for my father and left him with a pain that is unfathomable to most of us. For today, I am taking this gift and thinking only of this particular Saturday morning in the Grand Hotel in Paris, February, 1945. I am imagining him sitting at a table in his room with thoughts of love for the woman at home he loved so dearly.
Father God in Heaven, I want to lift up all the families of and men and women serving in the armed forces. The horror of battle cannot be comprehended unless we are there to experience the shelling and blood shed across the land and sea. This Valentine's Day there will be men, just like my dad, writing to their sweethearts and wives. I hope that those who receive letters like my mom did, will preserve them for generations to read. At a time when there is so much abuse, corruption and selfishness, it means a lot to know that there are warriors with gentle spirits who really do love deeply.
Amen
Miss Dottie
PS Note to Readers: Valentine's Day is soon approaching. If you want to know exactly what love is, open your Bible to 1 Corinthians 13:4-8:
Letter writing has become so passe and, I think that's too bad. Emails, texts, tweets ... all can be lost with the "oops" of a finger. I used to love running to the mailbox to see if I had a letter from a sweet admirer or from family/friends. I would hang on each word pulling the paper to my heart. Somehow, my letters have become lost in the many moves. Maybe it's just as well. Always the romantic, I have them in my heart.
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