Lunch Box Love Notes

Lunch box love notes. That’s what I call the little messages parents often tuck between a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a shiny red apple. Since I teach kindergarten and most of my children aren’t yet able to read, I have the privilege of relaying this correspondence to them. Though the exact wording may vary, the purpose of these little jottings on napkins or paper scraps is always the same. They communicate love and assure the child that, before long, they’ll be together again. They almost always include a heart, that universal symbol even a young child understands.

     Wouldn’t it be nice to receive similar sentiments in the midst of our adult days? To enjoy our lunch with a side of encouraging words? Why is it that, instead, our thoughts often trend toward discouragement and self-accusation? 

     On the surface, the answer may seem obvious. The world is messed up. We’re messed up. We aren’t sure what we should be doing to fix things, but we have a nagging feeling that, whatever it is, we need to be doing it faster and better.

But wait, if we feel that way, wouldn’t it be all the more reason our heavenly Father would want to communicate his love to us? 

     To put it in perspective, let’s imagine a five-year-old who’s having some difficulty settling into school. He opens his lunchbox and pulls out a note that says, “I hope you’re working harder today than yesterday. I expect to see some results. Are you reading as well as the other kids? I bet everyone else can at least tie their shoes. Finish eating your sandwich and stop being such a slacker.”

     We wouldn’t dream of sending such a note. Yet, we may allow similar words to lodge in our minds and even attribute them to the one who loves us most. 

     2 Corinthians 1:3-4 says, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

     Our creator knows what we need and he longs to provide it even more than an earthly parent does. When I was in kindergarten, every morning for the first half of the year, I cried for my mother. I missed her. I wanted her with me. I was homesick. At five years old, I was able to identify and articulate my longing. Decades later, I don’t think I do as well. When I feel sad, discouraged or lonely I often look around at my circumstances for the cause instead of realizing what I’m feeling is an intense longing for my Father and for home.

     Jesus said we’re like little children and he wants us to cling to him. Instead, we tell ourselves to be stronger, work harder, grow up. 

     I think I would be wise to recapture the honesty of my five-year-old self. To look beyond my circumstances and recognize what I truly desire. To remember to be still, listen to the longing inside me and simply cry, “I want my daddy.”

     The one who made us wants us to know we are precious to him. He said he is preparing a place for us. This earth is not it. We’re not supposed to settle in here. We were meant to long for more. For him. So he woos us with his Word and sends his affection in a thousand ways each day, splashing it across the sky in a sunrise, showering it down in a gust of wind and autumn leaves, sprinkling it into a baby’s first laughter. 

     Each expression of his love whispers tender truth. Healing. Passionate. Personal. A love note for a homesick daughter, tucked into the day like a note in a lunchbox, captivating mind and spirit and leading us into his embrace. That place of our longing. Home.