Her frail body and worn bathrobe shuffled out to check the mail, looking for something besides Publishers Clearinghouse notices to guide her future. The routine and an old, stiff, rusty around the edges mailbox was a mirrored reminder of who she now was. A whimsical relic of the past that heard from nobody. Life at the wrinkled age of 93 was junk mail at best. Lots to share but tossed aside on a daily basis. Faith kept her standing on her own two feet as she awaited the the Good News.
Trust in God