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I almost didn’t hear
the doorbell.
I was vacuuming the
carpet when I thought I heard that distinctive sound of chimes summoning me
to the front door. But then I heard it again so I hurried to see who might
be visiting me this mid-morning.
There on the front
porch stood our mailman. We had never met before because our mailbox was at
the end of our long driveway. The mailman, anxious to finishhis long route,
always drove hurriedly down our long street with little time to spare.
The mailman introduced
himself, then started to cry.
“Can you talk a
minute?” he asked, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his tired eyes.
I didn’t invite him in
because I was alone in the house, but I offered to get him some water.
He declined.
I walked out onto the
porch and we sat facing each other on the wooden porch chairs.
“How can I help you?” I
asked, concerned because he appeared acutely distraught, almost to the
breaking point.
“I need someone to pray
for me,” he replied. “I’ve noticed you receive several Christian magazines
and I figured you must be a Christian. My job at the post office is so
stressful I'm afraid I can’t go on much longer."
I asked him if he were
a Christian and he answered a simple, “Yes, but I don’t go
to church much because
I sleep all day Sundays from nervous exhaustion.”
We talked a little
longer and I asked him if he had considered another job. He said he
couldn't consider this an option
because he and his ailing wife would
lose some vital health benefits he had built up over the years.
I prayed with him,
asking God to use this very difficult time to draw the mailman closer to
Himself and to give him the strength to do his job if this was where God
wanted him to be. I prayed that conditions in the local post office would improve so he wouldn't
find the hours he spent there so stressful.
I asked God to make it possible for this middle-age man to go to church and
enjoy the fellowship and support from other Christians that he desperately
needed.
When I finished
praying, I invited him to come back that night when my husband would be home
and we could have more time together. He shook my hand, thanked me and
returned to his truck. My heart ached for him.
After a few minutes, I
walked down the long driveway to our mailbox. I was struck by the harsh
reality that people are scrutinizing our lives all the time. Even our
mailmen know our character and our interests simply by the magazines we
subscribe to.
I prayed then that God
would wrap His protective covering around my mailbox, preventing anything
from entering it that would dishonor Him or that would compromise my
testimony. As never before, this verse took on new meaning for me:
“Let your light
so shine before men that they may see your good works
and glorify your father which is in
heaven.” (Matthew 5:16)
Amen.
Mariane Holbrook is a retired teacher, an author of two
books, a musician and artist. She lives with her husband on coastal North
Carolina. She maintains a personal website
www.marianholbrook.com and welcomes your Emails at Mariane777 @
bellsouth.net. |
