I think someone once said that old houses have character. Now we can get around the word old with synonyms like vintage, rustic, historic, quaint. But no matter how you spell it, it still comes out O-L-D. Roof, sidewalks, ceilings, electricity, oh, and let’s not forget the pipes. Sometimes my vintage-rustic-quaint-historic old house likes to show its character in very inconvenient ways and without much warning. Like a kitchen sink that refuses to drain—during Christmas dinner preparations. Or a leaky roof when the snow decides Continue reading “This Old Pipe”
“Old houses have charm.”
Sure, okay. I guess that depends on your definition of charm. Like an obstinately leaking flat roof or creaky floor joists. We have lived in our “charming” abode for over twenty years, and are s-l-o-w-l-y but surely getting it upgraded from charming to more functional. Central air and the first attempt at a new roof came when we moved in. Since then, we have successfully vaulted the flat roof, gutted and remodeled the downstairs bathroom, put in new ceilings, and improved the whole picture with new aluminum siding. Currently, we are completely re-doing the upstairs “water closet”.
Of course, “we” is a euphemism for our wonderful and patient contractor, Dusty (which, personally, I think is a terrific name for a contractor, if you get my drift.) Bob and I can barely hammer a nail in straight—that is, if we can find the hammer. Dusty and his men really know their stuff. And they didn’t even raise a stink when my over-curious husband checked out their work area to see the progress, promptly stepping into some construction goo that they had just carefully spread prior to laying the tile. They have vision, and that gives them purpose. They’re going for both functionality AND aesthetics!
I love these guys.
But regardless of how careful and considerate they are (and they are!), when construction is in progress, you just can’t plan to dine a royal party in style in the middle of it. And you also don’t want to rush the work, either. It needs to be done properly and under experiended supervision so that the electricity doesn’t burn down the house and the plumbing doesn’t, well, you know.
Life is similar. We all need to be remodeled, upgraded, re-done. We are all under construction, and have our times of messiness. People close by step in the sticky goo of our moral confusion, or have to be careful not to trip over the ripped off wallboard of our pain.
Like my contractor, God is not deterred from His vision and purpose for us. All my goo, all my dust, it’s all temporary. And Jesus didn’t die on a cross just to make me “functional”, although some of us would be thankful even for that! No, He made the supreme sacrifice to make us beautiful, to make our lives count for eternity.
This Easter, don’t be afraid to hang up the “Under Construction” sign and put on a hard hat. It’s what He now lives for!