My writing day.
The day just for me. For me to meditate, to write, to revise, to post or submit. I look forward to Tuesdays. I schedule as little as possible on Tuesdays. Until today.
People are everywhere in my house. The painter in the living room reminds me of the old “Murphy Brown” TV series, where the painter was always working at her house, episode after episode, season after season. We’re on our third week together, and one room has been painted.
Then our handyman shows up as requested. Awkward moment, as I realize that he was the last to paint the living room ceiling, emergency basis (small fire two days before Christmas—a story for another time), big favor to me.
Now that the whole room is being done, I hire someone else—not the one who bailed me out back in 2004. Maybe he’s forgotten. Probably not. But he’s amenable to the small jobs I have for him to do.
One job is to hang a holder to display my ABC plates. He hung it for me years ago, but it was taken down for the room to be painted. I stop to check on progress. Oh, no!
As the other painter says, part of the wall “looked like Swiss cheese.” He’d had some problems putting the rack up, and I was glad. Glad?
Because he’d put it in the wrong place. Botheration! But since he made a mess of the holes and had to patch it for repainting, I told him where I really wanted it. Wondered if he was distracted from my directions by his awareness of the painter in the living room. But now my plates will be where they should be.
Then there are the three guys and a woman cutting up two trees just below my back yard. These trees fell, uprooted by a recent storm. Tall old trees. Made a good pile of firewood for the neighbor on whose property the tree had fallen. Since it was back in the woods, none of us knew when it happened. In the bareness of winter trees, these two were quite noticeable to us and to them.
But, unlike a man who used to live behind us, they did not demand we move them immediately. They didn’t even mention it to us. They waited, courteously, to see what we’d do. When I told her we were having the trees cut up, she graciously said, “So you’re handling it? We were wondering which of us was responsible for moving it. After all, it’s on our property.” Such a polite way of letting me know they were aware of it.
Also, the copy machine repairman should arrive any minute, bringing a long-awaited part. First he had to order the part, then he was sick a week, then said he couldn’t reach me yesterday. Really? The painter and I were here from 9:30 a.m. on. Oh, well. Just so he comes.
And lest anyone wonders the big reason for getting the two rooms painted, here it is: we have lived here since 1985 and have never had either room painted. Yes, we were living with wallpaper and paint from the 80s—and very happily, I might add. But sometimes we just have to bite the bullet and clean up our acts a bit.
Which leads me to my other thoughts—cleaning up my spiritual surroundings as well. My circle has shrunk since I quit teaching. Where do I even meet people that don’t know Jesus?
Obvious answer, once I make myself think. At our Wednesday Bread of Life Café! The people who come for a free meal are often faith-filled folks, but some are not. That’s where I will begin. I’ll extend my circle by not just chatting with them, but actually inquiring about their spiritual lives and if we can study together from the Bible.
Steve gives his devotional talk each Wednesday evening, but that’s just a teaser. For those who don’t know Christ, more is needed. I hope I’m just the person to supply that need. If only I can be brave enough to bring up such a delicate topic.
Time will tell.