It was bitterly cold that morning...the kind of cold that makes you hesitate before opening the door...the kind of cold that could be dangerous if you stayed outside for too long.
I was out on my route...putting miles behind me, my mind half engaged with the third episode of The Jack Benny show that was echoing around the interior of my van.
I was just about to pull into a gas station when my phone rang...a brother from up north again, thanking me for some cheese I had delivered to his house the previous week. His wife was in the background, reminding him to tell me thank you from several local brothers and sisters as I slid into a parking spot at Kwik Trip and chatted with them for a few minutes.
I listened as they related a local experience from last week's field service; a potential study started by his wife and another sister.
I needed to use the restroom, but the conversation had me engaged and so I just sat there, appreciating my warm van as I watched people dashing back and forth from their vehicles to the gas station.
Wisconsin "cold" has a way of prioritizing people's behavior, thus I started grinning as I watched several people performing a funny little dance as they stood fueling their gas tanks...attempting to keep the Arctic chill at bay.
I must have lost the thread of the conversation, however, because the next thing I knew the sister was asking me, "Well Tim?", in a very expectant tone.
Apologizing for my ADHD brain, I asked her to repeat what she had said, and quickly found out that they were offering me lunch at their house once I got up around their neck of the woods sometime that afternoon.
I hesitated briefly, doing some quick mental gymnastics regarding the timing of my route, then accepted and said I would be looking forward to the food and a good conversation, even if I couldn't stay very long.
We said goodbye then, and, after using the bathroom...I continued on my route until I finished my stops near their town.
By this time it was about 1:00 in the afternoon, and I was hungry. Parking my van in their driveway, I walked up to the front door and rang their doorbell, whereupon they quickly admitted me and shut the door, blocking out the wickedly freezing air that had rushed into their warm house.
No one was in a hurry.
Lunch was already on the table, they knew I didn't have much time so everything was already prepared. His wife is a wonderful cook; two plates later of pork roast and vegetables dished out over a mountain of homemade mashed potatoes...I was warm...I was full...and if I'm being honest, I was getting sleepy 🥱.
Our conversation was natural and full of warmth...we flitted from one subject to the next like an ice skater gliding over an ice rink.
Finally I knew it was time to leave and my eyes strayed around the room...looking for a clock, (as I had left my phone in my van).
A large cuckoo clock sat on the mantle above their electric fireplace...and after gauging the time...I happened to notice several greeting cards neatly arranged surrounding the clock...like soldiers on a battlefield.
I asked about them casually, remarking that my wife does the exact same thing with our greeting cards.
It was in that single moment...that everything changed.
Their faces softened. Their voices warmed. Motioning me to follow...they got up from the table, walked over to the cards and started pulling them down.
Suddenly this dear older couple came to life before my eyes....their voices filled with sheer joy as they began to recall who had given each one to them...and why each meant so much. The bitter cold outside lay forgotten as memories suddenly started flaring into life around me.
Assuming the cards were recent...I asked to see them...and they pressed them into my hands, one after the other.
The dates flashing before my eyes stopped me in my tracks
1978...1984...1991...and 1997.
Several were more recent...but some were decades old.
They had kept them all these years...not tucked away in a box, not forgotten in a drawer...but on the mantle place...in a position of honor.
And the words inside those cards?
They still encouraged them today... because they told me that they still take them down sometimes and read them together, drawing encouragement and strength from words written years, even decades ago.
I left shortly after, waving goodbye and smiling as I walked out the door back into the bitter cold...because they were still there, at the mantle place, talking to each other about their precious greeting cards.
That moment...my last glimpse of them as they stood gently fondling those cards...that moment sent my mind and heart straight back to a verse I’ve read many times, but never quite like this:
“Like apples of gold in silver carvings is a word spoken at the right time.” — Proverbs 25:11
In Hebrew, the word translated “word” is dāḇār. It doesn’t just mean something spoken. It means a matter, an event...something that does something and KEEPS doing it.
And the phrase “spoken at the right time” literally means “on its wheels.” A word that arrives exactly when needed...and keeps traveling with you.
The words in those cards cards weren't just written in 1978, 1987, 1991 and 1997...or even now, in 2026.
Those words arrived again...day after day, month after month, year after year.
Those words spoke again in quiet moments, sad moments...moments when maybe no other words could fill the empty space.
The words on those cards warmed hearts long after the ink had dried.
Proverbs 25:11 isn’t about eloquence.
It’s about timing and permanence.
A word given with love at the right moment doesn’t fade. It waits. It moves. It returns.
Sometimes, it sits quietly on a mantle place...ready to speak again...whenever it's needed.
So friends, I know the world is getting colder...I know things are getting more and more hectic...but please, please remember that a greeting card may seem small and sometimes unimportant...but it is not something that gets read once and then tossed away, as if it meant little.
Not among Jehovah's people it doesn't.
As crazy as it might sound, a simple greeting card with just a few words of encouragement has the power to stir hearts years, even decades after it was written.
I know, I've seen and experienced it first hand, both as the giver and the receiver.
A gift doesn't have to expensive to
make it beautiful...and words don't have to be perfect to be "spoken at the right time".