I heard this remarkable woman speak yesterday evening at my church.  I've read her non-fiction only; the event was publicity for her new book of fiction, Imperfect Birds.  It's easy to inspire me - just put me together with someone who lights up the room with her smile, or warms up the day with his presence and I... find my way to joy.  Anne Lamott however, in her forthright, no-nonsense manner turned my head and made me ponder.  She made me feel OK when I don't get "it" right the first time.  She created in me space to breath when the anxiety-demons circle.  One of the titles I read was Grace, Eventually; one was Traveling Mercies.  They're good.  No, they deserve reading. 

I have a friend who has breast cancer.  Had, I should say.  Apparently, they "got it" all last week.  Now it's just a matter of management.   Sure, the news is good. Yet, as we all know, the words "You have cancer", linger in our thoughts, as much as we try to shift them away.  I want to be there.  With phone calls.  Cards.  Lunches.  But I'm wondering, will too much care and concern become a burden? Is there a limit on compassion?  I think I'm overthinking.  I just want to be a friend, but in today's world when we're tied every moment and minute to communication, is it ever too much?  The bigger question... why am I even asking the question in the first place? 

OK, caller ID.  I LOVE it.  It’s great to NOT pick up when I recognize someone calling about some new add-on to my phone service. Yet what I’m starting to ponder… is it good to self-select conversations on OUR terms?  Maybe I’m not in the mood… but what if a friend just lost a job. Or their husband walked out. Or maybe, the doctor called and the news was…scary. Who gets to choose when we need to be present?  I’m not sure.  I think we need to… think about this.

I love technology (especially my Garmin gizmo) but I’m starting to wonder… are we hiding our humanity behind our clicks?  Instead of setting up time for lunch or coffee or a walk are we started to tweet our relationships?  The other day I had some time alone in the car with a good friend I’d not seen in awhile.  I was really looking forward to catching up.  We’d been friends – really good friends – through some series tough patches.  So…we had a relationship.  Since I love the chance to get-real, I started in on my life. Where I was – the good, the bad, the ugly. Yet we never got a spark going.  His answers were distracted.  He kept checking his phone.  Ugh.  I gave up.  I think we need to watch this.

When a recipient first recognizes they’re receiving a string of compassion, they start anticipating the next envelope. Each card’s message reinforces the one before it, linking quotes from the world’s wisest sages, beautifully phrased sentiments and personal messages (each card can be customized with a personal P.S. from the sender) into something uniquely “theirs.”

When recipients receive a commitment to the relationship, they recognize integrity, an investment of time and compassion from the sender. They come to realize they’re important, they matter.

My friend Karen sent heartpings to a friend struggling with addiction. After Karen received her email reminder that the last card had been sent she called her friend Amanda, interested in her response. Apparently her Serenity cards had been taped all over the house.

Another woman framed hers. Heartpings were designed as cards of support. They linger as inspirations and reminders of a friend’s compassion.

Yet though the messages resonate, the significance of heartpings in not found in the words themselves. The messages matter because of their continuity, a continuity that confirms a commitment.

Ironically, though we’ve never had so much technology to help up connect, we find it increasingly hard to stay connected. Phone calls get dropped into voice mail. Emails pile up. Texting and twittering and…it’s all good for quick, touch-base communication. But a physical reminder becomes something to hold, when you can’t be present in person.

My mother is retired. She lives graciously with time to visit friends, write notes and be available when needed. My mother and her friends compose handwritten cards of support.

Yet, my mother has the time. Most of us do not. Though we say we’ll visit, do we? And though sending a card of support is nice, stopping by the card store to pick up a card takes time - to find just the right card with just the right sentiment. And to pick up a few? Harder still.

We live our lives within a reality of busy schedules. When we shop for cards we’re hurried. Then to send it we have to dig around for a stamp and remember to drop it in the mail box.

We don’t live the gracious lives of our mothers. Yet we ache to be more present in the circumstances of those we care about. As we dash through our days, we are increasingly aware of our slipping connections to each other. As we “check the relationship” box we feel a lack of integrity in our efforts. Heartpings help us reconnect to a sincerity we yearn for.

One woman shared her struggle with words. How do we find the right sentiment in the hard situations? Paula is a forthright, direct woman. She had just learned her friend had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Paula wanted to say something… but she wanted the words to be reflective of who she was. Were Heartpings too…emotional?

Unless we’re in the situation itself, none of us can begin to understand the topsy-turvy emotional blur someone would feel after being plunged into a circumstance with no easy resolve. Emotions spin upside down.

Our lives these days are fragile. Jobs are ending or uncertain. Heartbreaking diseases continue to devastate. Marriages shatter. Death takes those we love. Too many are depressed; too many depressions lead to addictions. We want to help where we can, but can’t always find the words.

I reminded Paula to remember, compassion is not always found in the words themselves. Compassion is shared through our intentions. It’s being willing to show up. Paula sent a Courage series.

Before she sent heartpings my friend Starr was concerned six cards were too many. Her best friend’s mother had just died. She wanted to send a card, but a series? My friend worried that six cards would only reinforce the loss, though she finally did send a Sorrow series. A few weeks later I received a call. Starr was humbled. Not only did her friend say, “The cards were the only things that made a difference,” Starr shared she came to appreciate the reminder emails she received that advised when the cards were mailed. “I stayed connected. I remembered loss doesn’t go away after a day or two.”

One card, received one day is nice; yet it isn't enough. Six cards are a continuing presence when routine is turned upside down, when life is most uncertain. By sending a card every three days (or every week or once-a-month), you are a continuing presence. You reinforce “You matter to me.”

Most likely, every day you think of someone you’d like to connect with. Sometimes, just because they’re on your mind.

Other times, because they need to know you care. Sure, a quick cell phone call or email helps. But it’s not tangible. You can’t hold an email in your hands or tuck a phone call away to read again.

In today’s digital age, where we’re busier than ever with less and less time to tell those we care about they’re important to us… words matter. Cards matter. Taking time to write and send them, matters.

And sometimes, it’s hard to find the words. So oftentimes, we don’t say anything. That’s a shame. Heartpings can be used to bridge the divide between intentions and follow through