The Post Man.

[Risk No. 551] It was the rare occasion where I was in the garage trying to rewire my car’s front door harness (yeah, sounds complicated. It was save for the simple-to-follow instructions I found online. Regardless, I felt like a true champ once I put the door back together and turned the car on. Window & door worked!) I wouldn’t ordinarily have met the post man as we live on a steep hill and the mailbox is way down the hill. This day Michael drove up to drop off a package. I asked how his day was going. “Oh, pretty good, other than I’m trying to get over the flu. I have a headache and congestion and just don’t feel very well.” If that’s not my invitation, I’m not sure what is.

Stretching out my hand for the second time (after I had already asked Michael his name and shook his hand) I prayed a simple prayer telling the sickness what it ought to do at the name of Jesus. Michael bowed his head and agreed along with me. He thanked me and I prayed God continued moving wonderfully in his life. This risk may have taken a whole minute to complete. It usually doesn’t take much to treat a neighbor how I’d like to be treated.