It’s been over a week and he still hasn’t picked up the package! I wonder if he’s forgotten about it at this point since there was only one notice/delivery attempt? All week I just figured that he was waiting until Saturday to pick it up, but I guess not.
Honestly, I can’t say that it hasn’t calmed my nerves a bit that he hasn’t picked it up yet. As long as I don’t get a notification saying he did, I can temporarily pretend that something that feels so incredibly high-stakes isn’t actually happening, and the possibility of rejection feels more remote. Until I get that notification, I don’t have to wonder for every second after what he is thinking and feeling. I don’t have to worry that he is angry, or panicked, or doesn’t care. My sense of worth in the eyes of my creator is not in jeopardy. I haven’t yet been told that I’ll never get the chance to meet my maker, because he doesn’t want to know me.
And yet why am I so afraid, assuming the worst? Because it is possible, I suppose, and because, for better or worse, it is part of my nature to feel the need for self-protection. I read a line in a book recently that captured the futility and self-destructiveness of such a mindset perfectly. According to Miguel Ruiz, “Making assumptions and then taking them personally is the beginning of hell in this world.”
Ain’t that the truth. I’m trying to focus more on a world of possibility, the one that has at least taken me this far.
I was going to ask Meredith if she would reach out to him, just to let him know that he has a package waiting for him at the post office, but I decided to attempt re-delivery one more time through the USPS website first.
Tomorrow is another day. (Coincidentally, I just saw the mail-man in my neighborhood drive by!) The universe hears. And responds.