I was sitting in the endodontist’s office, rifling through my bag for the notebook paper I’d scribbled my medication list on. The nurse had asked for it to update my chart, and I was sure I had it tucked somewhere between the receipts, referral papers, and notes.

Triumphantly, I handed over a folded piece of paper.

The doctor opened it, paused, and smiled. “This isn’t the list,” he chuckled. He quickly gave it back as if it had caught fire.

It wasn’t. It was a love note from my husband, which I had kept for months.

Whoops.

I eventually found the correct list, creased, torn, and very unromantic, and the chart was updated without further incident. But when the doctor stepped out, I reached for my husband’s note again.

I read it slowly, letting the words settle into the quiet. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind with appointments, decisions, unexpected turns, parent responsibilities, and social events. But in that orderly office, with fluorescent lights humming overhead, the letter brought me back to something deeper. Something grounding. I found peace within the chaos.

I held the paper in my hands, soft from folding and unfolding, and whispered, “Thank you.”

Not just to my husband. To the moment. To the universe. To grace that finds us in the mix-ups.

A newsletter by Katie Rea.