Jesus, my postman

The Lord delivers gifts wrapped with the prettiest bows.  I had mailed a package to Israel a few weeks ago, then last week tried to track its customs number, learning only that the package was still roaming the countryside somewhere.  According to updates, delivery had been attempted more than once.  So I emailed my friend who’s the addressee.  The original plan was for her to receive the package and deliver the contents to our common friend who is a Holocaust Survivor.  But my friend who's the addressee had received no notice in her mailbox to pick up any package.  And the particular wordings on the tracking record seemed rather strange to her.  All I knew was that the package sat in Israel somewhere.  So I prayed.  It’s not that the contents were anything expensive, but more that our Survivor friend who has become our adoptive grandma enjoys coloring books, and I longed for her to not be lonely on her birthday and to receive a gift with a letter saying how much she’s loved by us and by God.  And then soon my inbox showed a new email.  My friend had located the package!  Eventually ending up at a postal substation, she could now happily ensure final delivery to our adoptive grandma on her birthday.  Really the Lord’s delivery of this package was a huge gift to me too, causing my heart to beam and seemingly my feet to float.  Our adoptive grandma is precious to us, and the idea to send this coloring book had been prayed over repeatedly.  Thank you, Lord, for being our postman, giving yet added meaning to Psalm 18:1-2, which says, “I love you, O Lord, my strength.  The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer . . .”   In truth, He is forever delivering both to and from.