Ten Decembers ago, I was maybe nine weeks into my new mail-carrying occupation, and suffering. I hadn’t foreseen the crushing workload involved with holiday mail volume, how the job would swallow my life.

My bloated Park City mail route seemed doubly difficult to me. I was still learning the process, still striving to increase my speed and accuracy. Winter had added considerably to my burden, the cold and icy conditions slowing my progress both in delivery and commute. Every prolonged day, I longed to finish earlier, longed to drive home while it was still daylight.

I had a strong reason for wishing, wanting, and needing to be home in those days—a teenage son suffering with anxiety and depression. But that’s another story.

On one of those pressing December days of 2013, I was finally out to deliver, after too many hours of sorting my onerous workload. Not halfway through my many stops, a man stopped me.

He wondered if I was the carrier for his business, and yes, I was. His name was Sam, and Sam proceeded to inform me how prestigious was his business, and how careless was the mail service. He hadn’t yet received some tickets he expected, and this was a serious matter. He wasn’t rude, just relentless.

Ten minutes is a precious commodity to a pressured mail carrier like me. Sam kept me busy with his story for ten minutes minimum, during which he repeated oft how prestigious was his business and how careless was mine. The contrast must have appeared so to anyone looking on—he the dapper and polished young professional, I the rumpled, bundled-for-winter oldster, behind in my day’s duties.

When I finally retreated, my spirit was deflated. I was truly alarmed. Was I guilty of losing Sam’s valuable tickets? Out of steam, I slogged through the rest of my workload with this new worry added. I prayed in anguish until bedtime.

Next day, I learned that my post office supervisor had investigated my report of missing tickets. Debbie had driven to Sam’s business mail stop, had searched the dozens of mailboxes, and had FOUND THE TICKETS! Sam was correct—they were not in his mailbox. But the envelope was misaddressed! Debbie found the tickets in some other mailbox, but delivered as addressed. She also found Sam and restored his tickets.

What marvelous news! That elation lifted me over the rest of December. I hadn’t been careless with Sam’s prestigious business. Even new and overwhelmed, I had done my job the best I could. I was vindicated!

Best of all, my prayers were answered.

Truly, this was a major turning point. I had always believed in prayer. But this was prayer answered in an unmistakable way! That experience introduced me to a concept I hadn’t before considered—Locater Angels! Debbie was my mortal Locater Angel in this instance, but I believe that heavenly counterparts surely contributed.

I continued through the winter with a mounting sense of unseen help for the dilemmas of my career. Carrying the mail taught me to pray for specifics like never before. The value of prayer grew in my understanding and practice.

I came to consider the possibilities of Specialized Heavenly Helpers for things like tricky driving maneuvers (Perilous Curve Angels), backing my loaded vehicle (Reverse Angels), and the already heralded Locater Angels for all things missing. I decided to acknowledge them and to thank them profusely for helping me again and again.

I wondered if they were a team of angels assigned to me, or the same angel wearing different hats. Relatives of mine? Mail carriers of Christmases past? In any case, I felt humbly blessed with the Best Angels in the Business!

It’s now the last day of 2022, and ten Christmases I’ve delivered. Today, I’m a seasoned, experienced carrier, and excellent at my work. Not perfect. I still make mistakes. But I’m conditioned to sense when I’m in error, most times able to correct before the damage is done.

And the job that weighed so heavy on me in 2013? I’ve come to value and appreciate it for what it has taught me, for qualities it has built in me: endurance in adverse conditions, fortitude in challenging pressures, gratitude for the physical strength and mobility God has blessed me with, and increased resistance to sickness.

In truth, it’s been a blessing to give my efforts to a worthy public service while building worthwhile personal qualities. I could write a lot more about working the mail.

And I will. In Part 2 (posting planned for tomorrow, Jan. 1), I will revisit Sam, and explore my recent musings about what that encounter might have meant to him, not me.

And I will share my Mail Carrier’s Prayer.

“Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find…”  Matthew 7:7