Until His older sister, Nadine, discovered several mysterious bundles in a box of His belongings after a major east coast newspaper ran His obituary near the middle of the last century, it was presumed that the lion’s share of God’s communications had taken the form of simple dictation and cryptic corporeal transmissions. 

Of course, nowadays, we prefer our instructions in print.  Let’s face it, if one of us happened to be walking down the street, minding our own business- wondering what to have for dinner that night or should we get the hamster fixed- when the neighbor’s forsythia suddenly burst into flames, we wouldn’t know whether to sacrifice another goat, or if little Billy had got hold of a Bic® and a can of his sister’s hairspray, again.  But, apparently, a mere few thousand years ago almost everyone spoke fluent cryptic.  Common exchanges by housewives over the back fence frequently involved their spouse’s encounters with the paranormal.

 “Yeah, Noah’s been busy working on some kind of ark ever since he spotted that mud turtle on the mail route Thursday.”

“I know what you mean.  The other night at dinner Abraham decided he needed to kill our son because the peas were lined up funny on his knife.  Luckily, a three-legged rabbit hobbled by at the last minute and he took this as a sign to give the boy one more chance.  Saved by a hare… Ha Ha Ha.”

“What do you suppose they drink at those Wednesday night Club meetings, anyway?”    

 Known to His friends and family simply as “Raleigh”, it seems odd that God makes no mention of these strange occurrences in His correspondence.  Perhaps He didn’t place the same importance on these events as other authors; from His perspective such episodes may seem trivial.

At any rate, these bits of written conversation with His family reveal a seldom seen, surprisingly pedestrian, side of a generally regarded “larger than life” figure.  If you discover inconsistencies or contradictions it is due to the fact that the originals were written in “Metaphysical Transcendentalese”, a language so aloof in its nature it can only be interpreted by a cat.  Martha Stewart being somewhat indisposed, I was forced to rely on Tigger.  Tigger’s translation is also the excuse, ahem…I mean, explanation for the rate in which the contents of the letters will be revealed. 

She is hoping to complete a letter every couple of weeks.

Check back for the next translation.

Letter #1