The Pastor’s Piece – September 17, 2023

The Pastor’s Piece

FCFI

September 17, 2023

There is no mystery in day-to-day life quite as exhilarating as the ordinary mailbox. Every day the possibility of something new arrives when the mailman stops at the end of the driveway and drops off the mail. I always thought being a mail carrier would be the best job in the world. You get to see the people on your route every day and you are the one they always look forward to seeing. 

Growing up, we didn’t necessarily watch and wait for him, but we were excited when we saw the mailman. I remember one time several years ago, I had transmission problems on my antique 1936 Chevrolet Standard car. I went online and found a replacement transmission in New Jersey. At the time the Post Office had a special on shipping boxes – if you could get it in the box – they’d ship it for the flat rate of five bucks. It took a lot of duct tape and determination, but that guy figured out how to get that transmission in that little box. I watched and waited everyday for that box to show up in the mail. One day, I heard incessant horn-honking in my driveway and when I investigated I found it was the mail lady with my new transmission. It was too heavy for her to lift, so I had to get it out of the backseat of her car. Happiness was delivered that day. 

Years ago, the only source of social media was the U.S. Postal Service (and the telephone). My aunt and uncle were missionaries in Africa for more than 35 years. They lived out in “the bush” as they called it. Mail came only when the missionary pilots would fly in every couple of months with supplies. My aunt would write home on those blue, air-mail envelopes that you would fold a certain way and lick and seal. If I remember correctly, those envelopes cost 35 cents each. A regular stamp at that time was about a nickel. Her letters were valuable in more ways than one. They opened a whole new world to me as she described life on another continent without all the amenities we enjoyed. One of my college professors said when he was kid, his parents were missionaries overseas too, and the only way they knew what was going on in the world was when the mail arrived, and with it, Timemagazine  – albeit about  two months late. Can you imagine not knowing the news until it was two months old? That would be old news for sure. 

I would be remiss, if I did not mention the excitement that came in the mail with the Sears, Montgomery Ward, and J.C. Penney catalogs. We would set them on the floor in the middle of the living room and two or three of us kids would plop down around each one, open them to the toy section and dream big dreams of new toys. And then, if we had saved enough dimes and quarters, our parents let us order one. The next six to eight weeks were filled with anticipation and joy as we waited for our packages to arrive. 

When my wife and I lived in Arizona, all the mailboxes in our neighborhood were in one spot. From where we lived, we could see them out our kitchen window. Everyday, Monday through Saturday, the mailman came at the same time and it was like ants to a picnic as the residents went out to gather their mail and converse at the mailbox. It was the highlight of their day. 

The mailbox holds every possibility the world has to offer. When I get the mail, I sift through it looking for an envelope with a canceled stamp. Those are the personal letters. Electronic mail is nice, convenient, and quick, but nothing will ever replace the thought and effort and joy of the hand-written note unexpectedly found in the mailbox. The bulk-stamped letters are of the least interest, but I open each one and read it just in case there’s some important information inside. The advertisers and other papers are curious to me as well. I like to know what’s going on in and around town, and what specials are going on at the grocery store. There used to be at least a couple of farm auctions a week advertised in the paper, but nowadays we’re lucky if there’s one or two a month. Most of the small farmers have already sold out, I guess.

Hats off to all you mail delivery people out there who make the world a happier place. Without you, life would be mundane and usual. 

“He sent the documents by mounted couriers who rode fast horses bred from the royal racing mares,” (Esther 8:10).