About the summer of 1976, a mystery was solved. It now seems a small incident but stands out in my memory as a very unique answer to prayer, and proof that God watches over us - and our stuff.
A few days after I was back in London from a two week holiday to my parents in Saskatchewan, I noticed I was not getting any mail. It puzzled me, for it was it was rare not to find something in my mailbox at the foot of my private entrance staircase every day when I got home from my office job as a switchboard operator and receptionist. Nor was it always junk mail.
As a week passed, my disappointment and concern grew.
A second and third week quickly rolled by with my box empty whenever I lifted the lid, peering and feeling around inside. I got anxious; what was happening?
This was an older downtown area, and I kept aloof from most of my neighbours; could an unsavoury character be helping himself to my mail? But why do it regularly for so long, never leaving even the junk behind?
I had asked the deaf mute woman in the lower unit to take in my mail while I was on holidays. I checked with her once more and she indicated by note that there really had only been the two pieces she had given me. They had come the first day I was away. She was sympathetic, so I didn't blame her.
What if, I pondered, it was that long-haired young man on the other side who kept irregular hours and often played his guitar for his dog? I plotted a confrontation.
The next day at work, I paused to pray expressly about my mailbox mystery. I didn't really want to make enemies of my neighbours and spoil opportunities to witness for Jesus. "Lord, I praise You for being able to see and watch over my mail," I prayed. "But I know that there should have been some letters, some magazines, and a couple of books I had ordered more than six weeks ago. Please find a way to get my mail to me."
Gathering my feeble bits of faith, I added, "I thank You, Lord Jesus. I deliberately choose to believe You have somehow guarded it for me."
A little later, while near the phone on my desk, it occurred to me to call the post office and ask if they had recently had other problems with theft in my area.
The lady in customer service was quite pleasant. She took down the details and promised to call back.
Before my work day was done she did, and informed me that the mailman on my route had noticed my absence at the beginning of my holidays and kept my mail in a big bundle at the post office. So far he had not seen any signs of my return, but my mail would be there the next day.
Relief washed over me. How glad I now was that I had not confronted my neighbour in anger.
That evening and all the next day I sang to the Lord about His ability to inspire a mailman I had never met, and to prompt me to phone about it. Then I spent a relaxing weekend reading through an armful of mail - colourful fliers as well as my letters, books and magazines. Best of all, I had a clear conscience toward my neighbours. We could be friends if I made friendly initiatives.
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Ruth Marlene Friesen makes friends wherever she goes!
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Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada