Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Our Mailbox Is Gone

Our Mailbox Is Gone

It was a difficult Sunday morning when we woke up and found our mailbox laying on the ground. Though we would not be receiving mail on Sunday, the Sunday morning paper was in the middle of the driveway, not in its normal tube. With two services and a son's birthday to celebrate, it would not get repaired that day. And Monday was scheduled for one of the last matinee ballgames to be played by our local minor league baseball team. It might have been better to fix the mailbox on Monday rather going to the game - but no way was that going to happen. So we again received Monday's paper in the middle of the driveway. And we received no mail.

So Tuesday was set aside for fixing the mailbox - and getting blood drawn for the tests my doctor had ordered. I picked up the paperwork at the doctor's office, when to the lab to have my blood drawn. This was followed by a late lunch with my son (hey, it was 11:00 AM by this time) and a trip to Home Depot to pick up some tools and hardware. By 2:15 we had the mailbox and two paper tubes back in place. We had already missed Tuesday mail - so, other than missing two days mail, the job was not too bad.

I really don't know who knocked down our mailbox. It may have been the person driving the car that delivers our Sunday morning paper, or perhaps the neighbor across the street backing out of his or her driveway. Or maybe just a prank - who knows. But it is back up now.

Messages don't always get through. Mailboxes do get hit. E-mail gets lost in cyberspace. Mail gets misdirected or delayed.

But there is one group of messages that do always get through - they are the messages we send to God. He hears our prayers, He answers our prayers, He knows our needs even before we express them in words. And if we keep our hearts open, we may also find that God is willing to speak to us.

And when the relationship has to be rebuilt, when we are ready, God is in the business of repairing it.

The mailbox never has to go missing when we are communicating with God.

Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
That calls me from a world of care,
And bids me at my Father’s throne
Make all my wants and wishes known.

In seasons of distress and grief,
My soul has often found relief
And oft escaped the tempter’s snare
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer!

Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
The joys I feel, the bliss I share,
Of those whose anxious spirits burn
With strong desires for thy return!
With such I hasten to the place
Where God my Savior shows His face,
And gladly take my station there,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!

Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
Thy wings shall my petition bear
To Him whose truth and faithfulness
Engage the waiting soul to bless.
And since He bids me seek His face,
Believe His Word and trust His grace,
I’ll cast on Him my every care,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!

Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
May I thy consolation share,
Till, from Mount Pisgah’s lofty height,
I view my home and take my flight:
This robe of flesh I’ll drop and rise
To seize the everlasting prize;
And shout, while passing through the air,
“Farewell, farewell, sweet hour of prayer!”


Yours because His,

Pastor Patrick

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