Repairs

  “Jesus responded, “Didn’t I tell you that you would see God’s glory if you believe?”” John 11:40

  My tools were inadequate for the job. It wasn’t a big job. It wasn’t a job relating to reno preparation. It was simply a small bit of home maintenance. Rural mailboxes are at the side of the road, not hanging on the house. My mailbox post was leaning, on the verge of falling over completely. Getting hammered by snow cast off from passing plows tearing by had bent the box out of shape over the winter so the door wouldn’t close properly.

  A couple of years ago I had received a note from Canada Post that the mailbox needed to be higher for the mailman so I’d done a quick fix with some scrap wood. It wasn’t very securely anchored to the ground. I was surprised it lasted as long as it did. The original, too short, metal post was still out there at the side of the road. It had been set in cement so removing it was a bigger task than I cared to tackle.

  I squeezed the metal box back into shape and knocked out a couple of dents. The door now works.

  So here am I with a hammer and a hand held screwdriver trying to fasten the box to the old post, making it the correct height with a hunk of 4x4 and another hunk of 2x6. The street address sign is on its own metal post; what country folk call our fire number but has evolved over the years to be a street address. It made a lot of noise as I attempted to hammer it into the ground.

  It made enough noise my neighbour’s dad came over to see what I was up to.

  “You need a bigger hammer,” he pointed out the obvious as he watched me tippity-tap away.

  It took all my will not to roll my eyes at this and to acknowledge his presence just might be a gift. I smiled instead. “This is the biggest one I’ve got.”

  “No worries,” he replied, “I have a sledge hammer in my truck. I’ll go get it.” (He is a home handyman so I assume his truck is his toolbox.) A half dozen taps and the address post was securely in the ground. I must have banged it at least forty times and achieved half as much!

  Then he went and got his powerful, cordless drill to use in lieu of my hand held, brute force required screwdriver. With his help, it only took a few minutes to finish re-installing the mailbox.

  All it needs now is a coat of paint but it snowed yesterday (ewwww!) which means it’s too cold to paint. It would probably be better to wait for a weekend as well so the mailman doesn’t end up with paint on him or his vehicle.

  I know it isn’t as exciting as Jesus raising someone from the dead but this little miracle, in the form of a neighbour’s dad, was a blessing. It challenged me to allow him to help. It challenged me to stand aside as he wielded the sledge. It challenged me to be on the receiving end of aid, of a prince rescuing this damsel in distress. (Chuckle. I never think of myself that way!) Not that I was really in distress, just lacking the right tools for the job. On my own I would have eventually succeeded. Or maybe not. Who knows?

  So there is the lesson. I am not on my own. Ever. While asking for help is one of my greatest challenges, this serves as a reminder that I can. Or if I can’t, God will provide aid when needed. Especially when I go all stubborn and don’t think I need any help at all!

  Maybe I need to stop telling myself that asking for help is a challenge. Maybe part of being a follower of Jesus is allowing others to bless us.

  And to be grateful.