Dear Russell and Friends,
Can there be too much of a good thing? Sometimes I feel that way. My process of reflection on the year behind and the one starting continues. I feel my melatonin levels fall and serotonin levels rise as the daylight inches farther into the evening. The cold, hard winter – – softens. Writing is more about who you are than what you do. It is a way to teach yourself, perhaps others, and a way to process the complexity around you. Quick quiz: did you think about the use of farther vs. further four sentences ago? I did. Is it an autistic trait? Probably a little bit – – the introvert who prefers a letter to conversation. I’m trying to improve, but it is easier to listen in a letter.
Writing has always been my main mode of prayer. The journals I have kept in the last twenty years of my early adulthood are rife with letters to the God I believe in. I think the act of writing to him (please don’t take offense in my use of male pronoun – – we are both made in his image) has cemented his reality in my heart and hand. Would I feel the same attachment to Santa Claus if my letters to him outlived childhood? It’s an interesting thought experiment, but somehow seems empirically distinct and difficult to demonstrate. One of the main themes of this blog is how two friends reconcile diametrically opposed views – – there is(n’t) a God and that does(n’t) have implications in the ways we live. Writing can be a means of that reconciliation. Do I want to convince Russell? More with my life than my words. Do I want to be a faithful friend to him and his family? More and more every day. Are there many others like him that the church and I have neglected? I’m convinced.
What will I write to my friend and readers this year? Floods can be as challenging as droughts.
Image credit: “1927 Mississippi flood Mounds-Cairo IL highway” by Archival Photography by Steve Nicklas, NOS, NGS – NOAA photo library. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons