The Postman has gone on holiday.
Why would this be a newsworthy event? Well, this is the Pueblo, and everyone has a story . .
Last week I received an official looking yellow notice that told me there was a parcel waiting for me. I was to go to the Post Office to pick it up because it was too big for the Postman to deliver.
*The Pueblo Postman does not have a Post Van – or even a Post Bicycle. He delivers all the mail on foot.
I set off . .
. . under the arch of the old city wall
. . down a set of stone stairs from one street level to another
. . following a modern Google map through an ancient maze of twisty streets and narrow ways.
At the point where the streets no longer have name signs I ask a passerby where I can find the ‘Correu’. Smiles and much waving of hands, and I find it – identified by a small notice on the front door of a house.
The family who live here have been Postmen for the Pueblo for at least three generations, maybe longer, and the Post Office is the ground floor of their home. They have grown up with the other families of the Pueblo, they spend time with them after work, chatting about Pueblo things.
And as each new Postman delivers mail to the houses through the years, he carries a living record in his mind that is more comprehensive than a satellite photo or a Street View.
He knows when someone marries or moves, when a new person comes to town or a resident goes on holiday; when someone is born and when someone dies.
He hardly needs the street house numbers – just a look at the name on an envelope and even if the address is wrong, it still gets to the right person.
Unfortunately when he goes on holiday he cannot put this information onto a pen-drive and plug it into his temporary replacement.
This week I have received more mail than in the last three months.
But none of it is mine.
For some reason, the replacement Post Person seems to think that any letter with our street name on it must be for me, so I have had an interesting walk every afternoon knocking on doors and asking if any of the envelopes I hold belong to my neighbours. I guess it’s one way to get to know them!
º God knows who we are, and He always knows where we are.
º He knows every circumstance that is affecting our lives.
º The message He delivered is for all of us, and if a neighbour has not received the message clearly, He asks us to go and knock on their door with a smile.