When I look back over 30-plus years of writing letters to You I observe certain formulaic nuances that seem to endure over the years. By “enduring” I mean they keep repeating themselves. One thing this could mean is that over the years I have never been successful enough in dealing with them to eliminate my concerns about them.Thus the formula of my sharing a concern with You, exploring the possibilities of Your whisper regarding it, and wrapping it up with an often pithy conclusion plays out over and over again. This can be an indication of a lack of progress, just stubborn persistence, or, more likely, both.
I have not overcome my “self,” so I continue to write to You about it. I do not act with the love I should, so I continue to write to You about it. I am not convinced of the ways in which I dispose myself to You, so I write to You about it. I am concerned about the ways in which I see You in others and how I respond to that, etc., etc. These and many other themes repeat themselves again and again. Hence, another letter to You.
I am made up of a lot of things, including the ruts from which I never seem able to fully extricate myself. What I find comforting is talking to You about my ruts. If I were You, however, I’d be a little bored with all the same old stuff over and over. But my solace is in knowing that You care despite my weakness. I wonder what my responses would be if the tables were turned and You were writing to me about Your concerns each week.