Dear Friends,

Blessings! O, Friends! How I have missed each and every one of you from the moment of our last correspondence.

If God so wills it, and the weather forecasters are correct, tomorrow will be Front Day. What better time to connect than on Front Day Eve? Mother sends her dearest greetings. She is doing exceedingly well these days, having me back home. Even Uncle told me to tell a few of you, including Lester, Cosmo, MeridianDog, glassman, buttocksinclarse, Rummey, NOLANOLA, and a few others, hello from him. Everyone here is bursting with excitement and gratitude, much like the father who welcomed home the prodigal son.

I hope you are prepared for tonight and tomorrow. What a joy, what a blessing! My heart sings with such rich joy of the beauty of this creation. Today, as with Christmas, as with Easter, we draw nearer to our Father in Heaven through this gift. Do not think I have fallen into the trap of natural theology, Nein!, as Barth might say to Brunner, for our Lord is the first and last revelation. But Front Day brings us closer to that revelation, reminding us all of how God intends the natural world, which yearns for reconciliation, to be.

Will you be celebrating tonight and tomorrow? Uncle, Mother, and I have spent the last month in Montana, Idaho, and eastern Washington. Owing to God’s grace in giving us an Indian summer, Uncle and I bagged a number of 8 and 9,000 foot peaks in the region, and a couple of 10,000 footers. We also have shared a few days fly fishing the beautiful rivers. What a sight to see a brown trout rise above its redd, for the spawn has been on this month, and gulp a fly you tied with your favorite Uncle.

We all eagerly checked the weather forecast daily, each of us guessing which Saturday would bring us The Day. When we saw the signs indicating tomorrow, God willing, would be the day, we departed our northern climes for home. We actually flew to the Destin airport, as Cousin was staying at the house east of Destin, and wanted to ride back with us to New Orleans.

The atmosphere here is simply kinetic. We have all of Great Grandmother’s silver candelabras, gifts she received from a gentleman near the Lake District, with whose family Mother continues a correspondence, aflame. Uncle is playing the organ some of our Front Day favorites like All Things Bright and Beautiful, All Creatures of our God and King, Holy, Holy, Holy]/i], [i]Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee, and even one I wrote to the tune of A Mighty Fortress is Our God.

Mother and I picked up a marvelous pizza pie from Domino’s this evening. We were quite disappointed to learn that, after many years, Domino’s three topping $7.99 special is no more. A victim of inflation, Domino’s pick-up special is now a single topping large for $7.99. I asked Tanya, my favorite cashier, whom I have not seen in nearly two years, about it and she responded, “TulaneLSU, so good to see you again! I missed you. But yeah, that special ended this past Monday.” All good things, I suppose. This looker weighed in at 21.7 ounces, as Mother upgraded to an X-large Brooklyn style for the additional $2, a cost that is well worth it.

The hot chocolate is flowing like the Missoula in May. That simile is appropriate, as we are sipping on drinking chocolate from Missoula’s finest chocolatiers, Posh Chocolat, a surprise parting gift Uncle shared with us this evening! As I sit ensconced in our sitting room, Mother sits across me holding her George Ohr mug filled to its brim with this brown gold. Again, she reminds me, “TulaneLSU, please send my fairest wishes to our friends on TD.” These are the moments we want to last, but we somberly realize these moments just cannot last.

St. Paul writes in his second letter to the church at Corinth, “We are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. For we live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.”

There comes a time in life when we become far too comfortable in the tents we pitch for ourselves. That comfort is a tocsin for sin, a bellwether for repentance. So it came that my time with you, my dearest of friends, brought me such comfort that I began to drift from the chief end of life, that is, to glorify God through worship and works of love, and enjoy God forever, as the great Catechism so beautifully puts it.

For 500 days from my last communications with you, I entered the monastic life at the family compound in Mississippi, living without electricity or communications except that with a pen and paper. I armed myself with prayer, the Bible, and the works of the Desert Fathers and Mothers, most notably Athanasius and Evagrius. My schedule was strict. Six hours a day of prayer. Six hours a day of reading. Six hours a day of writing. One hour a day of Lectio Divina. One hour of farming or preparing food. I am grateful that the fruits of that time have produced a deep cleansing in my body and spirit, a new outlook on life. It also produced several volumes that are soon to go to print. My only request of the publisher was that the work be anonymous, as all works of good should be.

Friends, while I rejoice with you in this time together and Front Day, I also bid you God’s blessing and tiding of comfort and joy, comfort and joy. I will soon return to my hermitage for a period of unknown duration. Until we communicate again, may you receive every day as grace, knowing that at least one person prays deeply for your joy and happiness.

Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU

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