What can I say? Where do I begin? So much has happened but really nothing at all. Really I should say nothing to speak of. Nothing that brings progress to a life not yet lived. However the mundane chores that keep semblance to the day have drilled a hole through a once hopeful spirit allowing the remnants of optimism to slowly leak out. A surge of adrenaline runs through my veins in order to complete my last task, a visit to the post office. The last of my duties for today, the simple completion of this will happily mean the end of a day with a thousand speed bumps.
I didn’t start the day speeding, in fact quite the contrary. I slowly rose and enjoyed a fresh iced cold cup of coffee. The caffeine was welcomed into my bloodstream with a polite salutation, ‘nice to see you again’ my body said to the espresso beans that started waking up and directing the synapses of my brain. I calmly yet with hopeful anticipation began to write my ‘to do’ list for the day. There were many things to do, as I have stumbled upon two roads diverged in the wood and taken the one less traveled by. All that means up to this point is increasing the “to do” part of my list without the immediate gratification of seeing those do’s as a direct means to an end. However I continue to forge through and complete the tasks at hand. Simple tasks, things that are accomplished successfully every day. Today however they became potholes, detours, and the undergrowth of my less traveled road. It seemed that everything I pursued could not be done, completed, or seen through to the end.
I have too many days like this it seems. It seems that I’m being tested, molded, and put through the fire more often than not. So I pick myself up knowing that it can’t last forever and drive to the post office. One chore that I know can be seen through to completion. I arrive, I look at the eagle and see it as a sign of redemption. Something will get done today! I walk through the doors with revived hope, ready to take off and soar and immediately slam on my brakes as the line is long and winding. I laugh at the irony and patiently wait in line. Finally my turn arrives and I am told that the one thing that didn’t need postage couldn’t be mailed without purchasing a USPS friendly envelope. I laugh with disbelief. Is this really happening? I turn around and walk away. A wave of defeat falls over me, thick and black, heavy and cumbersome.
I’m mad. I’m furious. I’m powerless against this morbid cloak of frustration that so badly wants to smother me with its false blanket of comfort. I want to settle down with its misery while reading my mail. I open one disappointing envelope after another and come to a plain envelope with a note inside sent by my Nana reminding me to “Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you”. My last straw was broken at the hands of the US Postal service and then mended by the Lord through the US postal service. The chink in my sole is repaired for today, no longer seeping lost hope, rather renewing it.