Happy Spring, My Friend!
I had quite a compelling experience one day last week that I can’t wait to tell you about. It started with the innocent order of a pink t-shirt from Dillard’s. It got a bit wack-a-doo from there. Allow me to explain.
It was a dark and stormy night when I ordered a t-shirt online. Well, it wasn’t dark and stormy, but all good stories seem to start that way, so I’m taking liberties. I was given an expected delivery date, and off I went with my life.
A few days later, when I tracked my package, lo and behold, my shirt was “out for delivery!” Nice! I thought. I’d be sporting that pink tee the next day. But as Kevin brought the mail in from the mailbox, all I saw in his hands were the usual things that generally get tossed into the recycling bin. No package.
I tracked the package once again. “Your package was delivered on or around your mailbox today at 4:37 pm.” Liar, liar, pink t-shirt on fire! I thought. Still not delivered the next day, I filled out the necessary form online, saying I never received my package. I checked the little box that said “clothing” when asked what the package contained.
Later that same day, I received a phone call from a man with a heavy accent. It was difficult to understand him, but he was very concerned about my missing package and advised me to wait a few more days until I filed a claim. Fine. It’s just a pink t-shirt. I’m not going to lose any sleep.
A day or two later, I looked outside my front door to see if Amazon had brought me anything fun, and there was my Dillard’s package! Ripped from top to bottom, but the t-shirt was totally fine. And it was cute, to boot! I wore it the next day.
OK, here’s where the story gets more exciting as it’s not exactly been riveting thus far, I know.
Late in the afternoon, my doorbell rang. I looked out the peephole, and there stood my mailman. I opened the door and greeted him with a smile, but he didn’t smile back. (He’s usually a friendly chap.) He said, “Hello, ma’am. My name is Mikhail Baryshnikov, and I’m your regular postman.” (Obvi, not his real name, but I’m taking more liberties.) And then he showed me his badge. His badge! Now, this was not the first time I’d ever talked to him, and I wondered why suddenly the serious tone and the showing of his badge. He went on.
“I have been out of the country and just returned to my post today. I understand you have a missing package.” (Darn – I never bothered to go online to tell them my package finally arrived.) “I also know that the contents of the package were cremains, and I just want you to know I treat cremains with the utmost respect. I know that is someone’s loved one, and I handle the package with care, as though it was my own family member.”
Wait, did he just say—”cremains”???
I asked him the above question. He said, “Yes, ma’am. It clearly states on the form that the package contained human cremains.”
I think my jaw had hit the door threshold at this point. Still, my mailman stood there, mustering all the seriousness he could and looking like he just might cry in a minute. He appeared so duty-full I felt almost like I should salute him.
“No!! No! It wasn’t cremains!” I explained. “It was just a t-shirt! And it arrived yesterday! See, I’m even wearing it! Look!” I did a little J.C. Penney pose, and he gave an audible sigh of relief.
I told him I filled out a form online but didn’t recall ever seeing “cremains” as a choice. I told him I definitely chose “clothing.” But he said it was marked as cremains and again told me how seriously he took that matter. He also advised me to sign up for “informed delivery” so that yaddayaddayadda—I didn’t hear much of what he said after that as I wondered if someone else had missing cremains bouncing around the neighborhood. It made me wonder if the occasional littered bag we’d see along the side of the road actually contained someone’s Aunt Edna.
So here’s the takeaway from this tale of two packages: Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone cared about their jobs as much as my mailman cares about his? I was too tongue-tied that day to tell him “thank you” for being excellent at what he did, but I’d like to ensure I do that the next time I see him.
That experience made me think about how I approach my “jobs.” I’m not employed full-time anywhere, but I have many responsibilities, both at home and out of home. Do I approach them with such dedication? Do I strive for excellence in the ways I serve others? Am I “all in” on what I do?
When I taught piano lessons, I had my students keep track of their weekly practice minutes. I made a little chart for them to put in their notebooks. On the bottom of that chart, I had this note: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart.” It was a shorter version of a Bible verse that says:
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart,
as working for the Lord, not for human masters,
since you know that you will receive an inheritance
from the Lord as a reward.
It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”
Colossians 3:23-24
My mailman seemed to be working at his job with all of his heart. I don’t have any “big important” jobs, and I may never deliver someone’s cremains across the country. But I hope to be as dedicated to whatever I do as my mailman was that day at my front door.
I guess that “remains” to be seen!
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO