I mailed two bed sized quilts about a month ago. One was queen sized and the other was king sized. I mailed them on Saturday just before the post office closed by Priority mail. On Monday the black and white one called Soul Sisters had arrived in Washington, DC. I was so surprised and happy that it got there so fast.
Both quilts were meant to be surprises for the new owners. The quilt arrived in DC so fast and I just knew the other one had made it home to New Orleans just as fast. Since I mailed the New Orleans quilt called Sharing the Love to a Post Office box, I figured it may take the recipient a couple of days to check the post box. I waited and waited and still no wonderful surprised call.
After two weeks I sent a text that said “check your post office box for a surprise.” Which totally ruined the surprise but by then I was just concerned that the quilt might be lost in the mail. The responding text said, “did you send it to this address?” I was downstairs working and that address did not look the same. I ran up the stairs and searched for the address. I quickly texted back, “no I sent it to P.O. Box XXXX, New Orleans, LA with a totally different zip code.” By then I was breathing pretty heavily and trying hard not to panic. I was slowly thinking how dumb it was to try to surprise her and how dumb it was that I didn’t put a confirmation on it. The next text said, “This is my new address. I changed my post office box.” My heart sunk. Oh no, I mailed it to the wrong address.
Panic was breathing down my neck. I remembered that Aunt Annie said, “If you pray don’t worry, but if you worry don’t bother to pray.” So I switched to prayer mode. I found my receipt and considered going to the post office to find out what ever little they could tell me. When my mail man came by, I asked him what he thought the chances were of getting the box back. He said, “two weeks, I don’t know. You might have something to worry about. Somebody might be excited about a nice gift in the mail.” Not the right answer but he is still my favorite mail person.
The post office has gotten a lot of bad press of late, but I want to go on record to say that there are some wonderful people who work for the postal service. They always take good care of me. So I settled into a vision of the postman bringing the box back to me. Every time worry tried to slip into my mind, I visualized the postman and my box.
Long story short. I thought I would sleep late Saturday morning. Everybody knows that I get up early. So my friend called at 7:30am on Saturday with the wonderful surprise in her voice. Thank you for the quilt, she said. God is good and so is the postal service!
