Just Pat

"...all language about everything is analogical; we think in a series of metaphors. We can explain nothing in terms of itself, but only in terms of other things." (Dorothy Sayers, Mind of the Maker, 1941)

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Location: West Michigan

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Babbs


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I haven't had anything I could put to words in the last few days. Work has been very intense, and nighttime has been a reaction to it all, for the most part. The house is always there, patiently waiting for whatever I can give it. This post is for my kitty, who unwittingly reminds me that life is more than task and product. Every day she lets me know when it's time to go to bed. She lets me know when I need to get up. She shares my meals - whatever I'm eating - with me every day, and when we're not needing to do anything, she is simply present. And blinking. No wonder ancient peoples drew cats on walls.

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Wednesday, February 16, 2005

The Me That Was

When I look back over my life, I have so many memories of things I've said and done that make me cringe and want to duck.

I especially think of times that I tried to share my faith with others. Times when I was bold, but insensitive. Times I said things that may have been true, but did not heal or build up. Things I've confessed and professed. Ideas and advice I've shared. I get shivers just thinking of it.

In the words of Napolean Dynamite,
"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

The problem with looking back on stuff I'm embarrassed about, is that I'm looking back.

A few days ago, I read a post by my
bad christian friend about his regrets over street evangelizing. I have to say, while reading it, I felt that old familiar cringe. WHAT WAS I THINKING BACK THEN??? The me with no makeup, no slacks, no bible other than the KJV, no worldview outside my church walls. The me I can no longer relate to, that I'd probably not even be friends with if we were together in time.

Time betrays us. We grow through life like a plate shifts in the earth. Sometimes it happens abruptly and our world is visibly changed. Most of the time it happens without us knowing it.

The only time we have is the time we're in. We live, act, and react based on the people we are in the moment we are living. If we are honest and faithful, we are operating on the best information we have in that moment in time. In retrospect, I think we have to trust that.

I've heard so many sermons, so many testimonies, so many sure-fire answers over the years that, when I look back on the content now, I can't believe I sat still in my seat to hear. I've given so many tracts to so many people I didn't know, and expounded doctrine I had no experiential knowledge of to listening ears, and now believe is wrong. Yet, if I remember correctly, I've also seen God move in those times.

God is so, so gracious. He really does just ask that we show up. He knows we don't have skills, yet he treats us like Donald Trump's favorite. I was thinking today about the farside cartoon where the guy is talking to his dog, and dog is hearing, "blah blah blah, blah, blah blah," and how it's kind of the reverse with God. We babble on, "blah blah blah," and somehow God takes that and uses it and touches people's hearts.

This isn't to say that I think street evangelism in America is not outdated and ineffective. I can't make that call. But I've decided to give myself a break about who I was and how I did things way back when. If I was good enough for God, I guess I should be good enough for me.

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Monday, February 14, 2005

The Construction Chronicles, Part 10



Now the kitchen floor is laid. Oh my. That was a chore. They tell you in the instructions that the floor needs to be level. But, they don't tell you why ("They" meaning the anti-do-it-yourselfer conspiracy out there somewhere). I'll tell you why. If you don't have a perfectly flat floor, it is very difficult - no, nigh impossible - to snap the pieces together. It took a lot of shimming and heaving to get it down, but by golly it's down. And it's great! I've never been a big fan of laminate flooring, but I like this stuff. I can't believe how durable it is!

Also done this weekend:

Dick made a cherry mantle for the ledge over the north window. It's sitting on top of the ledge waiting to be nailed in place.

Window jams cut and in place.

Leaded window removed and exterior paint applied.

Switch plates installed.

I tried my hand at pickling the cabinets.

I wanted a white wash finish, and this pickling stain isn't doing it, even after leaving it on for a couple of hours. So, it's back to the paint store. I'll keep trying until I get it right.

Refrigerator doors switched to open from the right.

Gas furnace mounted on the wall and turned on.


There's still so much to do, and I'm so sore from the weekend I can barely move. But, it's really coming along now. The work we're doing is paying off in visible results. Thanks for coming with me on my construction journey. I've loved sharing the progress with you, and appreciate the encouraging words you've offered (especially the oohs and ahhs - my pride thanks you). It'll be a couple of weeks before I have enough done to merit another post - so maybe I'll write about something else...

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Monday, February 07, 2005

The Construction Chronicles Part 9



I'll say it again...I love, love to paint!

I'm not normally a lover of yellow. It's cheerful, and I'm introspective...

But, I love this yellow. Gerbera Daisy, Ralph Lauren color, Glidden paint, killer sale for a five gallon bucket. I still have half the primer and paint left over for the second floor hallway. Grace and I cut in, and Dick followed with the roller. We had a blast. When we finished on Sunday, we were exhausted, but really excited about the progress.

I started to prep the kitchen area for the laminate flooring after they left, but then remembered that the flooring was in the garage and needed to adjust to the house temperature before I could install it. So, I'll try my hand at floor installation for the first time tomorrow night.

It is so great to have the apartment painted. And now I get to do some of the pretty stuff.



I'm having difficulty remembering now how filthy and grim this space was a few months ago. So much work has gone into it, all prettily hidden under drywall and paint. I'm so glad I took pictures.

The next few days I'm hoping to get the flooring laid, paint the bathroom and stairwell, paint the leaded window, and seal the cabinets with poly. Stay tuned.

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Sunday, February 06, 2005

Construction Chronicles Part 8

Different town, different time...same station.

When you work a lot on your house - when your house is your obsession - you frequent hardware stores.

I confess that much of my business goes in the direction of Home Depot, Menards, and Lowes. I also frequent a nearby Ace Hardware, but for big stuff I go big store.

I live less than one mile from a small True Value Hardware. I've driven past it many, many times. It's on a busy corner, bordered by a very small used car dealership, a liquor store and a scary looking bar. Street parking only. Yesterday, I needed paint supplies. Little stuff, little store. I went to the True Value for the very first time.

I'm from a northern Michigan tourist town, a native. I'm way native. My family goes back in that town on both parents' sides to the mid 1800's. I lived in the town before it became the place to vacation in the summer. I'm rural at heart. I drove beaters almost all of my life there. I've seriously shopped for single and double wide trailers. I ate at restaurants where the waitresses called you "hon." I couldn't grocery shop without running into at least three people I knew.

As I stepped over the threshold of the True Value, I entered northern rural Michigan. The store was jam packed full of stuff, all kinds of stuff, so much stuff that the aisles had unpacked boxes of stuff to go on the shelves already full of stuff. Behind the cash register on shelves were clocks and gadgets and lures and tools and stuff all boxed up and dusty. I don't recall how deep the store went or how high the ceiling was or whether there were windows anywhere other than the front display window jam packed with stuff.

The cashier was probably the owner. He was a guy in his mid to late fifties with a vest, longish grey hair, very sensitively polite and personable. Probably a hippy who went into social work, burned out, and got into selling hammers to chill.

The defining entity was the hardware store groupees. Two guys, in front of the cash register, shootin' the sh*t, tellin' big stories, bein' mighty courteous and makin' way for the "young lady" waitin' to buy her paint rollers, that's a dear. One with a big hand carved maple walking stick bragging about how it was made, the other just nodding a "hell yeah" kind of nod, the owner grinning and feigning busyness as they cast their banter into the confined atmosphere of the store.

I had to ask.

"Do you take Mastercard?"

"Yes, we do," replied Hippy Owner man.

Whew. I felt silly when he took my card and actually scanned it through a card reader. But, why wouldn't he...it was a hardware store.

"That bar across the street - is that a restaurant/bar, or is it mainly a bar?"

Man with walking stick: "Bar." (grunts)

"My father-in-law wondered if it might be a good place to get a hamburger."

Stickless groupee: "Choo Choo's. They have the best hamburgers in town." Echoed affirmations: "Choo Choo's, Choo Choo's..."

"Great. I told him that too."

Hippy Owner man, as I walk out the door: "Tell him I said to get the Big Red Caboose."

Gotcha, big guy.

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Tuesday, February 01, 2005

The Construction Chronicles Part 7



A lot has happened since Part 6 of the chronicles. Pastor Paul finished the mudding, sanding, and texturing of the attic. It's amazing to stand up there and think that it was just rafters and OSB a few months ago. It's white and clean!

Well, not really "clean." But it sure beats dirt and bird crap.

I've got the kitchen cabinets - waiting for two that were back-ordered. Got the trim for around the doors and windows. Bought the refrigerator. Got the primer and paint.

That's the next step, the paint. I love, love to paint! It's relaxing, and makes such a dramatic difference in a room in a hurry.

On another subject, I've been thinking a lot about family. I'm missing my family up north. My mom will be 70 in April, my aunt and uncle are both having hip replacement surgery soon, and the last of my Grandma's siblings died two weeks ago. I couldn't attend the funeral. I've got neices and nephews growing up without me, and a great-nephew who was just starting to walk at Christmas time.

I wish I could pick up my house, my friends, my church, my job, and take them all up north so I can have it all. But, we don't get to do that - we've got to choose. I choose staying here, because I feel rooted here. I feel I've been placed here, for reasons of which I'm only partially aware. And, it feels like home here. But, the deep down familiarity that comes from relationships from childhood is up north. I even miss the disfunction of us. The "Oh, yeah, that's how we do things."

The long and short of it is, I'm thankful I have family to miss.

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