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The postman cometh, and it’s about time!

February 24, 2007

The mailman cometh, at last!

I know I said I would toddle down to the post office and get a PO box. It wasn’t as easy as I thought. First of all they did not want to give me an application, then they sent my mail back anyway and pretended they’d never seen me, so my application is now lost in the bowels of the postal service along with the super 8 movie footage that proves that Elvis and Bigfoot were complicit in the Kennedy assassination.

So I went back again, and again, and again vainly attempting to contact my local post master [probably out surfing with Elvis and Bigfoot] anyway after beginning to feel like everyone in our local postal depot was being subjected to daily mind wipes, “you sure it was me you talked to?” “I don’t know, is there another delivery supervisor named Eddie with the same dumb expression on his face?” Finally after this guy, who I remind you had to pass a test to get this job, has taken my number for the third time he tells me to call the post master because she usually isn’t in her office very often.

So home I go, assuming I will be treated to some really great hold music and maybe a voice mail box, right? WHO do you suppose answers the phone? That’s right,  Eddie! So I am prepared to leave my number yet again when he asks, “What exactly do you want?”

Now there’s the sixty-four dollar question. I want to say four million in small unmarked bills and the Oscar Mayer wiener mobile with a full tank. But I find myself wondering if my brilliant sarcasm will be lost on this poor, poor man. So I tell him I would rather not have to send my mail to my office or pay for a PO box. What I would love, like a fatman loves twinkies, is to walk down to my mailbox and find…..are you ready for it? MY MAIL!

You know something just occurred to me. This entire concept of refusing to deliver to the mailbox in my yard, which remember is conveniently placed at the curb, is doubly vexing for one reason. I CAN NOT USE IT FOR ANYTHING ELSE! No I don’t mean I can’t think of other uses, believe me I could, no it is against federal law to leave so much as a key in a mailbox. That’s right folks , your mailbox is officially US Government property. Don’t believe me? Go to  http://www.usps.com/websites/depart/inspect/usc18/mailbox.htm and be enlightened on the dangers of mailbox vandalism.

Okay, what was I saying? Oh yeah so what happens yesterday? Not one but two mail deliveries occurred at my house, hallelujah! I’ve never been so happy to see dog food coupons and mortgage refinancing scams in my life! Is it over, who knows, in fact in this moment, who cares?

My battle with the post office has taught me a couple of things. One, don’t fight the law the law always wins. Two, Sometimes I need to remember that I am like that mailbox. I don’t belong to me. In the grand scheme of things this is essentially why it matters how I handle my encounters with the postal service, I am not my own I have been bought with a price. I am a representative of God here on earth. Does that mean I should rush right out and buy a bullhorn and a suit and find the nearest street corner and start representin’? Sure, but only if that’s what God is telling me to do. Mostly for me it means seeing the person, taking the time to understand that Eddie is responding not only to me but to the three thousand other people who complained about some facet of his job in the last week, and having compassion on him. It is so much more important that I show the love of Christ to this man than whether I ever open another sweepstakes notice. Love the Lord your God with all your might soul and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. First I have to get that down, then  I’m gonna fix what’s wrong with the freakin’
united states postal service!

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