Jon stood amongst the damp, shadowy inhabitants of the forest floor: Mushrooms, branches, thorns, toads, insects, all giving an ominous feeling.

But, of course, the most ominous thing was what loomed over that forest floor: a crooked, zigzagged rock pathway leading up to a crumbling, leaning tower, topped with a wooden house. It would be easy to assume it was abandoned... if the lights hadn’t come on in the windows.

Jon, a middle-aged, balding, but still relatively fit man, felt overwhelmed by the whole thing. The trek to get here was hard enough, but now he had to face what he had come for, and it was much bigger than he had anticipated.

He wanted to turn back. The hike back would be much easier than what lie ahead.

Jon grit his teeth. No. No more giving up.

He made his way up the path, walking, climbing, jumping, sweating, and groaning. He was not normally an outdoorsy person. His movements and grunts made it clear that this was far from natural for him. But he made it to the dark front door, the whole house overhead seeming to creak on its unstable foundations.

Jon paused for a minute at the door, gathering his courage. He was not a social person, either. The long hike to this house was much easier than lifting his introverted fist to knock at a stranger’s house. But he did, and loud enough to make sure it could be heard throughout the large structure.

Jon waited a minute or two. There was no response. He knocked again.

“Who is it?” came a voice from the other side of the door. Jon guessed that it was a female voice, but it was hard to guess beyond that how old it was. The emotion behind the voice didn’t seem menacing.

“My name is Jon,” he answered. “I live down the mountain. I’ve seen this place from down there for years. I was wondering if you were interested in getting it repaired?”

“Repaired for what?” the voice asked.

“Just… repaired,” Jon struggled to reply. He wasn’t sure what exactly she was asking. “I’m not looking to buy it, if that’s what you’re asking. But I know some people at my church who could help fix this place up for you.”

“So you believe in God?” the voice shot back, an edge to her voice.

“I do, yes,” Jon responded.

“Are you trying to convert me?”

“No, that’s not why I’m here. I just want to help make the world better.”

“Are you trying to get me to come to your church?” the voice went on.

“Well, I mean, if you WANT to, then that’s great, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“And why ARE you here?”

“I just…” Jon fumbled for an answer, “wanted to offer you help if you wanted to fix up your house.”

“Why do you care if my house gets fixed?”

“I’m just looking for ways I can help,” Jon tried to explain. “I want to help people.”

The voice laughed for the first time. “Very noble of you!” she chuckled, and Jon heard her move away from the door and further back into the structure. Silence was left over.

Jon looked up at the crumbling house. He sighed. He turned around, looking at the way back. He’d come so far.

He carefully climbed back down the rock pathway to the forest floor. He was also not very comfortable with the thought of falling, which slowed him down a lot. But he finally made it to the bottom. He looked back up at the tower, now darker as the day began to fade into twilight. He’d have to get going if he didn’t want to be in the forest in pitch black.

Looking down, he noticed a wooden stake laying on the ground. It was the base, he realized, of a very old mailbox, long since fallen to the ground and hidden in the dirt and plants.

Jon looked back up at the house, then back to the ground. He carefully lifted up the mailbox, untangling it from the layers of growth that rooted it to the soil. He thrust the stake into the ground, setting the mailbox upright. With his shirt, he wiped at the mailbox. There was a layer of rust that would never come off, and any name or address that had once been written on it was long-gone. But he at least got most of the dirt off.