For the next few weeks, we received mail on a regular basis. There were little notes confessing her love for each of us.

One night, just as my husband and I were winding down, readying for bed, I looked across from my room and into the hall.

I stared at the mailbox that Laura had made for herself. Suddenly, I realised that our little angel’s mailbox had sat empty. My eyes filled with tears.

Seeing my distress, Reed immediately questioned me about what was troubling me. A thick lump locked in my throat as I pointed to her empty box. Without saying a word, he knew exactly what I wanted to tell him. In the weeks that followed, this little girl and her daddy exchanged the sweetest of love notes. “I love your eyes, Honey,” he’d write. “I noticed how kind you were to baby Paul. It shows how grown up you are.” In return, her tiny hands penned words of love and support for him, how she loved to see him after a long day of work.

This same little girl is grown now, driving off every day to the community college. But some things about her have never changed. One afternoon only a week or so ago, I found a love note next to my bedside.

“Thanks for always being there for me, Mom,” it read. “I’m glad that we’re the best of friends.” I couldn’t help but remember the precious child whose smile has brought me countless hours of joy throughout the years. There are angels among us. I know. I live

with one. — Beliefnet.com (Concluded)