Dear God.

I am still in shock from yesterdays events. My hair seems to grow at a rate of knots and I do rather enjoy when it is long. In this cold winter it is nice to have a good head of hair but family and friends kept telling me that down over my shoulder was going a bit too far and it made me look old. 

So yesterday i took the bull by the horn and had a haircut. The pleasant girl who cut it must have been friends with my wife because i was wondering when she was going to stop cutting. The floor around the chair looked as if it had a coating of snow when she eventually asked me what i thought.

Not only was I lost of hair I was lost for words. The good thing is that there is only a week or so between a bad haircut and a good one.  Now I am not saying for one minute this is a bad haircut, ask my wife about that. She is convinced I lost ten years in one afternoon.

So a story about another loss put right.

A letter arrived at the post office sorting office addressed only , To God. 

The postmaster opened it and read.

Dear God,

I am an 93 year old widow living on the State pension.  Yesterday someone stole my purse.  It had £100 in it, which was all the money I had in the world and no pension due until after Christmas.  

Next week is Christmas and I had invited two of my friends over for Christmas lunch.  Without that money, I have nothing to buy food with.  I have no family to turn to, and you are my only hope.  God; can you please help me?

The postmaster was really touched, and being kind hearted, he put a copy of the letter up on the staff notice board at the main  sorting office where he worked.  The letter touched the other postmen and they all dug into their pockets and had a whip round.  Between them they raised £95. 

Using an officially franked Post Office envelope, they sent the cash on to the old lady, and for the rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of the nice thing they had done.

Christmas came and went.  A few days later, another letter simply addressed to 'God' landed in the Sorting Office.  Many of the postmen gathered around while George opened the letter.  It read,

Dear God, 

How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me? Because of your generosity, I was able to provide a lovely luncheon for my friends.  We had a very nice day, and I told my friends of your wonderful gift, in fact we haven't got over it and even Father John, our parish priest, is beside himself with joy.  

By the way, there was £5 missing.  I think it must have been those thieving fellows at the Post Office.

George could not help musing on Oscar Wilde's quote, one my good friend quotes to me often. 

 "A good deed never goes unpunished"

But never let that put you off. My father always agreed 100% with the Boy Scout promise to do a good deed every day. 

Strangely they never went unrewarded with the joy they brought.

Have a great day I am off to look for my hat I think I might need it today.