"letters from God dropt in the street"

17 April 2026: 

In "Song of Myself," Whitman writes:

"I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign’d by God’s name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe’er I go,
Others will punctually come for ever and ever."

I am thinking of those lines tonight as I think about four literal pieces of mail that I received today--two from current students, one from a former student, and another from someone at an institution I gave a small donation to. 

The two from current students arrived via campus mail, part of a Program Board event where students could send thank-you letters to their teachers. They landed in my hand right after I found myself feeling very down on my walk to the mailroom--full of sadness and anxiety about so much. By the walk back to my office--with those unopened notes in my hand--I felt a different kind of teary. When I opened them? Magical stuff to read. 

The other two were in my mailbox when I got home; I love the idea that one is from the "past," so to speak, from a former student. But because we are still in touch, she's also part of my present and future. We've been sending each other genuine letters--long, comtemplative, thoughtful. It's meaningful and special to me. 

The last--from someone in donor relations at UNCG--made me happy because it made me think of a place I love and a place that shaped me. The good work they do there goes on. A young woman I'll probably never meet reminded me of that in a handwritten note.

As I keep writing in these posts, so much is so hard. It can--at least metaphorically--buckle my knees at times. It was on that walk down the hall earlier today, as text messages from home and from Pennsylvania filled me with sadness and fear. 

But the Lord sends letters to me--to all of us, reminding me of His presence. Today the letters were literal. I am so grateful.