You probably have your own routine, but here’s how we do it:

Allow yourself 10 seconds of genuine joy when finding out that there’s a surprise package for you on the way, coming from your home country.
After finding out it was sent two months ago . . .panic! Ask for a tracking number.

Gasp when the website shows the package was delivered to you six weeks ago. That’s about double the time they keep unclaimed packages at the post office, and you have never been notified.

Get borderline angry for remembering you were at the office asking if there was anything for you about a month ago, and the answer was negative.
Run through worst-case scenarios in your mind. Try not to set your hopes up, realizing your package is probably on the way back home or already in an ‘adoptive’ home by now.

Husband
Early the next morning, be first in line at the post office, mask on face, tracking number in hand, and P.O. Box key in your pocket.

Be thankful for getting the nice, English-speaking clerk this time.

Frown when she tells you that your package is indeed there, but in your wife’s name, even though addressed to a P.O. Box that is in your name and, therefore, making a notification impossible.
Frown again when she tells you your wife has to pick it up personally, but only after she gets a tax ID number from the revenue office allowing her to pay the customs tax due. Plus, she has to do it today, because tomorrow the package is scheduled to go back to Romania.

Hurry back home while briefing your wife over the phone. “Leave everything you are doing and get ready to go.” It’s gonna be a long day. Sigh.

Call the sender. Force them to ruin the surprise and tell you what’s in the package, so you can declare the contents.

Wife
Get all your ducks (and your kids) in a row, pack their breakfast to go and pray you will survive today. These kind of errands and bureaucracy are usually handled by your husband. Today is your day to shine! That, and bring home a package.

After you are dropped off at the Revenue Service, get inside and prepare to wait for your turn for as long as it takes. Surprisingly, in about 20 seconds you are already seated and the clerk is processing your request. She makes humble attempts in English, while you do the same in Georgian. Catch a smile on her face when your words come out right.

Make a mental note: “Speak more Georgian.” Spend the rest of your time there trying to pronounce the name on her badge in your head . . .
L-O-R-T-K-H-I-P-A-N-I-D-Z-E. Be thankful your name is Troy. Explain that’s your surname and not the given name.

Twenty minutes later, come out victorious, holding tightly to your tax number.
Back to the post office! After a short wait, get inside and head to a desk.

Be prepared to explain the whole ordeal again and sigh with relief when she says your husband was here before. She remembered! She doesn’t even ask for your tracking number again. However, she asks what’s in the package.

Respond, “Toys, food, clothes.” Watch her typing, raising an eyebrow, making a call, typing again and then lifting her arms desperately. “Internet araa”—there’s no internet.

Mutter “of course” under your mask when she informs you that internet is down, and she can’t process your package with the customs.

Remind her that your package is going home tomorrow. “What happens if this doesn’t get fixed today?”

Drop your jaw when she asks for your phone number and promises to call you the second internet is back. She also slips a piece of paper in your hand, containing her personal phone number. Although you have experienced postal office encounters on two continents, this is a first. Mental note number 2: “This is what going the extra mile means!”

Go home frustrated and yet surprised, waiting for her to call. Save her number into your phone—Leila. Put your baby down for a nap and watch the clock anxiously.

When she finally calls back, take your enthusiasm down a notch, because she’s asking you to declare everything in the package.

Have your husband call the sender again and nag them until they just give up and send you the receipts. Assure them that you are still surprised.

In the meantime, exchange about a dozen texts with Leila from the post office and find out the receipts are no good, since the customs office already has the items declared but need them translated from Romanian.

Translate everything via text; then agree to go back to the post office and do that in person.

Third mental note: “Buy Leila some flowers.”

Feed your kids, pack them in the car again and stop by the flower market.

Your son wants you to bring him some flowers, too. Promise him that if the package plan doesn’t pan out, you will buy him a wheelbarrow full of flowers.

Go to the market and put your clumsy Georgian to some good use. Take it as a compliment when the flower man thinks you can really speak Georgian, and he suddenly gets hit by logorrhea.

Explain politely than you don’t understand a word he’s saying. Explain you know even less Russian. Tell him and his wife that you are Romanian, and you are learning Georgian. Watch their eyes sparkle with pride. Leave with a fragrant bouquet of yellow daffodils and a heart full of joy. You just had a good conversation in Georgian!

Receive a text from Leila that says, “When you arrive, you don’t need a number—just come in. I’ll be waiting for you.” Talk about it with your husband and agree that you have never met a post office clerk that was so incredibly nice.

Get back to the post office and go straight to Leila. Give her the flowers and watch her blush with surprise. Her smile is going from one ear to the other, and so does the smile on the next client’s face.

Translate your items again; then take a seat until customs processes your package.

Go back, pay a fee, and finally sign for receipt of your package. Leila comes back bent under its weight. Wow, that’s big!

Ask Leila if there’s an evaluation form on which you can give her five stars. Watch her laugh uncontrollably. There’s no such thing, but she is grateful for your appreciation. She really can’t stop smiling.

Wait in the rain for your car, hold a package half your weight, and realize that you can’t stop smiling, either.

Get back home and sigh with relief. It’s 6 o’clock. The post office closes in one hour, and tomorrow your package would have been gone. What timing!

Open the package and feel a little weak in your knees. Everything that reminds you of home is in there: some of your favorite snacks, perfectly age-matched toys and clothes for the kids, and, almost touchable, a lot of love and care.

Watch your children munch on snacks and squeal with joy as they discover their new toys. Smile.

Remind yourself that this morning you wanted nothing more than to just fast forward this day—to skip the queues, the paperwork, the rain, and the use of a foreign, strange language that you haven’t mastered yet.

Thank God that you couldn’t do that. Otherwise, you would have missed the surprise of such a well-organized system at the revenue office. You would have missed the nice Georgian conversations and the sparkle of friendship in people’s eyes. You would have never met lovely Leila, and you wouldn’t have made each other’s day. You would have missed the great feeling of being able to get by in a foreign country. And, most probably, you would have missed a great gift sent with love from friends at home. But the greatest loss of all would have been missing the experience of God’s incredible timing again and His power of bringing people together in the most unexpected ways.

Watch the sun going down. It was another good day in Georgia. Mental note of the day: “Start assuming the best about people.” It might be transforming.

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