Saturday Morning, Three Unopened Envelopes on the Table

On Saturday morning I made coffee and sat down at the table, and my eyes kept drifting to one side. Three envelopes lay stacked there. I had brought them in from the mailbox one at a time since Monday. One from a credit card company, one from an insurance company, and a white one from a sender I didn't recognize. My head knew there was no harm in opening them, but every evening I had set them on the table and walked past.

Thinking about it, it was strange. While I didn't know what was inside, I was imagining something bigger. What if the amount was wrong? What if I'd missed some paperwork? Those thoughts had taken their seat at the table before the envelopes did. Saturday was the first day I had any spare time, so I no longer had an excuse to keep avoiding them.

I took a sip of coffee and set the cup down. My hand started toward the envelopes, then turned toward my phone.

What You Can Say Without Knowing

I opened still().

In nothing be anxious, but in everything, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.

Philippians 4:6 (WEB)

"In everything." Those words caught my eye. They seemed to say it applied not only to big things but to something like three envelopes from the mailbox. I had been holding this alone because I didn't think it was a worry worth speaking about. And "requests" lingered too. I thought that being vaguely anxious is different from putting into words what I actually hope for. Reading this sentence doesn't change what's inside the envelopes. But I said one line to myself, inwardly. I hoped it would turn out to be nothing.

Then I tore the envelopes open one by one, with my fingers instead of a knife. The card statement showed numbers much like usual. The insurance notice, once I read through it, was only a changed renewal date. The unfamiliar white envelope was a notice from the neighborhood office where I used to live, about something already over, so there was nothing to do. It took less than five minutes to read all three. Something in me still hadn't loosened lightly, but the table was clear.

I stacked the empty envelopes and put them in the recycling box. The coffee had gone cold. I thought about reheating it, then just finished it cold.

Today's Breath — Place one thing you've been putting off in the middle of the table, look at it, and breathe out slowly.