Not official, yet these words are part of the pledge of the postal deliverers. Snow and gloom of night are in there, but the first two are especially true of Houston. I don’t know where you are in life with communication. I’m right there with some next step items. No Instagram, yet e-mail does get the word said quickly. Some use that option or maybe have moved on to texts or some other vocabulary I don’t know. An excitement builds in opening the mail box or hearing a plop on the floor by the door that a faint bing doesn’t begin to match. So cheers for the United States Post Office even as it struggles.
Benjamin Franklin, the crusty pithy colonial Renaissance man, was first connected with a postal system out of Philadelphia in 1753. In July, 1775, a colonial postal system was begun with his being the first postmaster general. For a good part of my life, mail was a way to communicate. School children were taught the proper way to write various letters from obligatory thank you notes to business letters. Mail came twice a day and once on Saturday, and special stamps were needed the the missile went by plane. The Post Offices in towns were almost as important a gathering place as one of the local stores.
Letters were treasured. They contained 
important news or words of love to be gathered and tied with a satin ribbon. Today these are considered primary sources for any historical documents. In my mother’s bottom bureau drawer were a gathering from her grandchildren over the years. A single crayon mark from a young one and several lines slanting downward across a page telling about a school occasion from a pre-teen boy. Doug gave me a notebook with letters I had written him during an around the world trip thirty years ago. I had to plan ahead for them to reach the receiving point when he was there.
Times exist when the old fashion term of “I take pen in hand” is still appropriate. Can one express proper concern for a death or tragedy in a technological manner? A gift thoughtfully chosen and specifically given almost requires the same attention in a thank you note. Yes, in these days of separation and quarantine I have typed a keep in touch comment and hit return. More and more though, a note is written when I need to know a person I love picks up the envelope, looks at return address with anticipation, and what my hand sealed their hand opens for their eyes to read what my heart wrote. Even that doesn’t replace the closeness we yearn for.
Though I have much to write you, I would rather not use paper and ink, but I hope to come to see you and talk with you face to face, so that our joy may be complete.
2 John 2:12
Let Me Tell Ya 