By Doug De Graffenried
There are two varieties of home improvement projects. The catalyst for the first variety of projects is the eye. When you have harvest gold or avocado green kitchen appliances, it is time for a little project. The way trends cycle, if you will hang on to those appliances another quarter century, they might be in vogue again. We might call those updates. It sounds less expensive to say, “I’m updating my home.”
The other variety of home improvement occurs when there is a major repair necessary. I am in the middle of that kind of home improvement. The house was constructed seventy-seven years ago. There are things that have “broken.” I am in the middle of a bathroom remodel. Seems the tub was not a cast iron variety. It was one of those “new-fangled” metal tubs of the 1940’s. The tub reached the end of its functional life. Corrosion, known as rust, surrounded the drain and the tub began to leak.
I was vetoed on the contractor, the other member of the committee voted to hire the friend of a friend. The work is “substantially completed.” All I can tell you is, I closed my eyes and listened to this guy talk and I swear I was listening to Larry the Cable guy. He was a nice man. He worked quickly. He did say, “Your house is not square.” Duh, it was built in 1947 and is pier and beam construction, no kidding it is not square.
He told me on Saturday that he would have to call friend number one to finish the drain because a part was missing.
The missing part was a ninety-degree turn. He described it as being PVC that was about six or seven inches long in total. He didn’t know where it was, but it was suddenly gone. He surmised that somehow friend number one had inadvertently picked it up. I shrugged my shoulders.
He finished his part of the job and left. That evening as I was getting the dogs settled, I found the missing piece of PVC. The dogs didn’t differentiate between some of their bones and this missing piece of pipe. There it was in the middle of my bed. The dogs had buried it under a throw pillow. I’m wondering if this isn’t in the same broad category of “my dog ate my homework.”
The Psalmist told us, “Fret not.” I wonder if the Psalmist had dogs that carried off PVC in the middle of a construction project. I know the Psalmist faced much more. Is your faith in Christ, such that you can face every adventure, situation, exchange, conversation, challenge, or detour with the attitude of “fret not?”
