the .: fyr :. light

I met Paul the Wood Guy today.

Paul is your quintessential red-cheeked, cheery old man. He’s a few inches taller than I am, he’s sturdily built, salt and pepper hair balding on the top (more salt than pepper), twinkly blue eyes and the most contagious smile I have ever seen. He knocked politely at my front door about 2pm this afternoon. And I am not one of those people who regularly qualify emotionless actions such as knocking too often. But just the way he knocked sounded very polite. He didn’t ring the doorbell as most people would, he knocked – three times, softly enough that it wouldn’t startle me yet loud enough that I would have heard anywhere in the house so long as I wasn’t playing loud music. It was polite.

I had called Paul yesterday when I realized that it was getting colder and that 2 bundles of firewood a day was not going to cut it – especially if I needed to go get those 2 bundles everyday. I googled for firewood near where I live and ended up with Paul’s number from the recording of another guy. You see, the guy I called had stopped doing residential wood but he recommended to other guys who still did.

Paul was the second number he suggested. Oddly I didn’t take note of the number for the first guy. Just Paul.

I called Paul and he was all “Gosh! So nice of you to call! What can I do for you?”

He put an instant smile on my face. I said, “Well, I got your number from…” and I could hear the smile in his voice when he said “Oooh! You need firewood! Golly!”

I swear. Paul is all about “Gosh!” and “Golly!” and “Geez!” Jolly is a real understatement.

Paul patiently explained to this Caribbean newbie all about burning wood. He explained wood sizes, shapes, age. He explained why we call it cord and what a cord is. He explained different types of wood and what they meant. Told me the type of wood they provided. We discussed fir trees for a while because in Jamaica, we have pine trees, which is a kind of fir tree. Here in the Evergreen state, they have a ton of different kinds of fir trees. He explained that he would deliver the wood already chopped and help me stack it and explain why we stack how we stack and explain to me how to get it ready to burn.

Paul and I talked about me being from Jamaica, and hubby being from Michigan. We talked about how we met, how long we had been married, the fact that we were military and asked where we had been assigned before Fort Lewis. He talked about being in the military himself and that he and his wife still shop at the post commissary. And then he would extend a discount to us because we’re military.

And this was just the “introductory” call. Paul draws you out.

Paul said he would get my wood out to me as soon as he could. Probably in the afternoons because they use the daylight hours to chop and stack. He said he’d call when he was coming and could I give him directions to where I was. I warned him that my directions have been known to suck royally and end up causing people to get lost more often than not. He laughed and said that I couldn’t be all that bad because I sounded like I could give him perfectly good directions. He said to give it a shot and he’d do the rest. And I did.

So when Paul knocked politely at my door today I was surprised that he had arrived here without any issues. When I asked him how my directions turned out, he said they were perfect.

While Paul was here, he chatted to me. We talked about hubby and the course he is doing. What it implied about how his superiors felt about him. And he invited us out to his place to “commune with nature”. He described it to me and it sounds like a real woodsy heaven. And Paul asked me whether we were interested in finding a church to go to. He explained what his church was all about and I talked about the Methodists and that they were an offshoot of the Anglican church.

And when Paul was done stacking my wood for me, he asked to pray with me. He asked if I would be offended. I said that I wasn’t Christian but that I wasn’t ant-Christian either and that I sure wouldn’t mind if he prayed with me. And Paul did. An impassioned prayer for my health, hubby’s health, our success and our happiness. And he thanked the Lord for bringing us into his life.

When Paul left, I was smiling like I don’t think I had smiled for 24 hours. He lifted my spirits like I can’t begin to explain to you. He is a blessing. He is a glorious and angelic soul. And I thank the Goddess for bringing him into my life today … just at the point when I was feeling down and alone and in despair.

Who says miracles don’t happen?

Edit to say that when I told my Mom this story, she said I’d been touched by an angel.