Dear
Your letter came when I felt wrung out; the delivery of mail shifted my consciousness from its dip into self-pity into the potent self-awareness of my relationship with you and in other ways reaffirmed the greater order at work in the world.
For weeks I anticipated the opportunity of a setting in which the possible of God’s Kin_dom could be that much easier to pronounce.
I find that here my fellows meet our Maker in the mundane. The rare time comes when a dispiriting mood takes us all at once—but it happens, and the evil grips us like a vice. The horrifying pressure exerted upon us then seems not only man made but demented and diabolical. Then we know hell by the fingertips, out touch desensitized, our imagination a palate of starch, overboiled. Hunger even for mush would suggest our souls animate, but this slackens until we only faintly notice an ache in our bones. At times the walls seem to flux under the heaviness; they lean in as if to smother us but even that, it seems, could be a kindness. No, not all of it goes away when mail is announced, but then the magic of the wizard of oz was nothing preternatural either.
A word from you suffices though to assure that my humanity itself was fashioned in the image and likeness of God. With thanks,
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