I went for a walk with Jude this morning. It was a great walk in the
first sunlight of the day. The air was already warm but the trees swayed
with a wondrous gentle breeze. We walked up and down hills, across
bridges and through neighborhoods. I pushed my little one in our used
jogging stroller and enjoyed pointing out butterflies, dandelions, birds
and scampering squirrels.
On the last leg of our walk, just as we were about to tread up the final
hill that curves around to our own driveway, I noticed a mailbox. It
caught my attention because it was hanging open. I had every intention
of closing it shut for the owner, but the closer I got the more apparent
it became that this was no one’s mailbox at all. The metal was rusted
and bit crushed from the wear and tear of the harsh seasons it had
undoubtedly endured. This mailbox was an unkempt antique and was of no
use to anyone. It certainly wasn’t collecting any mail, and had long been
I walked up to it and was shaken by a flutter inside; then a burst of
feathers as a bird emerged with a violent flapping of wings to push
itself out of its hiding place. I gained my composure and then peeked
in – there, nestled in the back recesses of this old decrepit tin box was
a newly minted nest, filled with the beginnings of new life. Tiny eggs
were encircled by brush and sticks to keep them warm.
This old, useless mailbox was someone’s home and the open lid was just
the passage needed for new life to begin.
I wonder if you’ve closed the lid on an area of your life that could be
the very resting place from which new life will spring. I’ve often tried
to close of parts of my life, parts of my story, that seem rusty,
useless and a bit dented. I didn’t want anyone to get inside that part
of my history. And yet, I’m beginning to discover that if I’ll open the
lid, or my heart, and let people inside, my broken places can give them a
surge of encouragement and hope that may just foster something fantastic
in their life.
So, open the lid today my friend . . . new life depends upon it.