The letter came this afternoon. Our mail guy was bundled up to fight the cold. I asked whether he was keeping warm.

He laughed. “Warm? Shoot. There’s been a rock rattling around in my shoe all day. Come to find out, it’s my toe.”

The first letter I opened was from Small Town, Tennessee. The author wanted to remain anonymous.

The note began, “I’m just sitting here, smoking a cigarette, writing you and trying to figure out what the [deleted] is happening in my life…”

No personal history is needed. He works at a brake shop. The kind of joint where you pop in and get your pads changed for a couple hundred, plus labor. He’s The Labor. His wife is a hair stylist.

This year his daughter started having some health problems. First, she lost her appetite. Then she started bruising easily. She was dizzy a lot. They took her to the doc.

They ran tests. Scans. Consults. Hurry up and wait. It didn’t take long to figure it out.

“There’s nothing scarier,” he wrote, “than hearing the words: ‘Your daughter has leukemia.’”

Treatment began. Medical professionals were actually hopeful. Leukemia used to be a death sentence. But over the past decades, cure rates and survival outcomes for acute lymphoblastic leukemia have improved significantly. Nearly 90 percent diagnosed achieve a complete remission in our modern world.

“But the tests didn’t work.”

His daughter was getting sicker. They’ve tried other treatment options. Nothing worked. Last week, doctors said they are at the end of the road. She doesn’t have much time left. Months maybe.

“…And I’m just sitting here watching my daughter live out the rest of her life, and I can’t figure it out.”

Last week, when news spread around their little town, the response was overwhelming.

The first casseroles started showing up on the porch around 4 in the morning. And the food kept coming. And coming.

People have been forming prayer chains. Dropping off supplies. Someone left a huge cash donation in the family’s mailbox. A few hours later, there were more cash donations. The mailbox was overflowing with cash and giftcards. Altogether, about 11 grand.

All anonymous.

“As I write this someone has just delivered a turkey-cheese-bacon casserole… And I’m so embarrassed they saw me smoking cigarettes. I don’t smoke.”

Right now, his daughter is in bed, watching movies on her iPad. Once, she was an auburn-haired little girl. A daddy’s girl. She likes riding in the truck, with their dog. She likes Spongebob Squarepants. Loves singing.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when she’s gone, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, one thing I could tell you readers, it’s look around you at all the love in your life.

“I’m being for real. You have so many who love you, standing all around, folks you probably never thought about. And when the (deleted) hits the fan, they’re going to be the only (deleters) to catch you when you fall.

He closes by saying:

“…Just tell people to hold their kids every single day. Tell them how much you love them, never let them doubt.

“Never stop holding them, never stop hugging them. Because someday God is going to call your baby home, and then you won’t be able to hold them anymore.”