Never assume something’s junk mail without opening it first. I found that out last night when I got home from work and saw a white and blue envelope with the return address of the Massachusetts State House sitting on my kitchen counter. I ignored it and went upstairs to get changed.
“Hey Ree, you got a letter here from Senator Patrick O’Connor,” Al yelled up to me. “Aren’t you gonna open it?”
“It’s probably just some mass mailing,” I said. “You can toss it.”
“I really think you should open it. It has a regular stamp and it’s made out just to you. Aren’t you curious? It could be about your book or something.”
“Al, I doubt if our State Senator is writing to me about my book, but okay, I’ll open it.”
Here’s what I might never have seen if I had a husband who actually does what I ask.
P.S. For the last week or so, I had been anguishing about how to get a copy of All in My Head: How a Hypochondriac Beat Brain Cancer to U.S. Senator John McCain, who was just diagnosed with a glioblastoma, and might be comforted by my story. With the deluge of cards and letters the beloved statesman would be receiving, I was sure that my package would never make its way to the top of the pile. But now, Sen. O’Connor has promised to get it directly to Senator McCain’s office in Washington, D.C.
I recently read a book called God Winks about advantageous coincidences in life all being divinely orchestrated, and not accidental at all.
Thanks for the wink, God.
(Pictured right: Getting a photo op with Massachusetts Senator Patrick O’Connor at a Scituate Chamber of Commerce event.)