When the post comes

We live in a building that doesn't have a letterbox. That means that each day, the postman has to ring the doorbell. 

Early on in the most strict version of lockdown, he was often the only other person outside our household I saw not through a computer screen for days on end. Collecting the post genuinely became one of the highlights which broke up the monotony of the day. The fact that most of the post was for the church not for us was irrelevant ... the postman was another human being!

I do, also, quite like receiving post. I am, like all of us, surrounded by digital communication, and while I like the ease of keeping in touch that the likes of WhatsApp offers, I confess that at times my email inbox feels more like a burden than a source of life! But there is something different about real post and I generally find receiving letters exciting. 

Several times in recent months, I have realised or been reminded that there are people for whom the post arriving evokes very different emotions.

* * * 

Way back in the first lockdown I remember facilitating a discussion with the Stories group about what the struggles of lockdown were, and what were the positives. Knowledge that in those strict early days, everything, including the Home Office had probably more or less ground to a halt led one member to say, and others to agree ... that the post arriving no longer left them feeling really anxious in case it brought bad news.

* * * 

Back in the summer, I sent some post out to the group members ... partly homework, partly just because I, at least, as stated above, like getting post and thought a bar of chocolate and a pen and a few other bits and bobs dropping through the door would be nice. I used, without giving it a second thought, brown A5 envelopes, because that's what I had. They were, all, I think, happy to receive them once they opened the envelopes ... but one or two did mention, next time we met, that they "thought / worried it was from the home office" when they saw it drop through the letterbox. 

* * *

Recently some of the group were speaking to some young adults. We have done a number of these virtual visits recently and they are always immensely powerful. Often, I find, it is not the big overarching experiences which are the most moving, but the small details, the snippets of stories which bring home the realities of seeking Sanctuary. One such moment recently was when an asylum seeker, speaking of the stress of living with constant uncertainty through the process, explained that every time the post comes, if you see it is a brown envelope you worry, will it be a letter from the home office, will they tell you you have to leave your house, will they say they are sending you back to your country where you are in danger.

* * *

I can't really begin to imagine living with that level of daily anxiety.

Knowing all this hasn't stopped me appreciating receiving post, hasn't stopped me enjoying opening letters, hasn't stopped me enjoying greeting the postman with his cheery smile each morning.

It has helped me appreciate that this too is a privilege.