There’s a mailbox right outside our new home. I can easily see it from the front door. It sits next to the street curb and is shaded by towering pine trees.
You’re already wondering why I would even mention a mailbox, but I’ve never had one so close to our home. In Etta, the mailbox sat beyond the studio adjacent to our drive and a steep hillside’s distance from our home. What a treat to have one so close to the front door.
Our mail lady comes by in the afternoon. She drives a “real” postal vehicle, which makes her stops at our box even more official!
Having my own box so conveniently located has actually encouraged my using it to send mail. With the popularity and ease of texting, Facebook, and emails, a stamped letter with a three-line address is a rare commodity. I personally regret seeing the “snail mail” reach such a decline. That’s why I try to make good use of our mailbox.
Othel usually checks mail first. If he’s away or happens to forget, I check the mail. Neither of us ever lets it stay overnight in the box. If we have to be gone overnight, a sweet neighbor gathers our mail for us.
Opening the bronze lid is always like opening a surprise. Handwritten addresses automatically go to the top of the stack. Usually there’s a piece or two of junk mail, an occasional bill and sometimes a window envelope revealing a pastel check. Those are Othel’s favorites!
A real treat is opening the box and finding a package. It might be a birthday surprise or a book I’ve ordered, but a cramped mailbox is always a good thing!
My neighbors would call me strange if they heard me celebrating a mailbox, but that’s because they’ve lived close to theirs much longer that I have. Few would argue with me that we take a lot of blessings for granted.
Our Bibles would certainly fit in that overlooked list. Every time I open it to read and meditate, it’s like opening a letter that’s filled with knowledge and wisdom for living. It sheds light on dark paths and brings hope where situations appear hopeless. It causes me to want to send messages of hope and encouragement to others. Sometimes the letters are addressed just to me. Other times Othel sees his name on the message. Sometimes they’re addressed to Mr. and Mrs.
There’s never any junk mail in the Bible’s pages. Every line comes from God who spoke through an unlikely list of writers. It’s always a daily – hourly – even in minute’s delivery time. There are no closed holidays for its operation.
Othel nor I would ever consider ignoring our mailbox for days at a time. When it’s delivered we pick it up promptly. How we deny ourselves special blessings when we skip a day of opening the letters that God sends us through the Bible. Be honest; who wouldn’t want to get a letter from home?
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