Remodeling rarely goes as planned. Our project is no exception.
Slowly we work to update the house we bought 23 years ago. It is the only house we have ever purchased. Only closets and one bathroom serve to remind us of the old popcorn ceilings. Besides early marriage rentals, parsonages served as our residences.
Homeownership brings with it challenges we had not experienced before. What do you mean the reason we have no water is the well pump went out? You may have to call the honey truck for your septic tank? Did they really make windows that come with the optional free flowing winter breeze? These questions and more put us on a quick learning curve.
The Kitchen . . . I’ve Come to Plumb the Sink
Call it the second phase of remodeling the kitchen. New cabinets, countertops, tile and converting a bay window to a patio door and more. The work is a combination of efforts. Fortunately my Dad had me hold a flashlight for him while he did DIY projects when I was much younger. For those of you my age who remember The Electric Company there is this reminder.
Yes, in order to get the old countertop out and make way for the new counters, I disconnected the plumbing under the sink. Simple enough. In order to provide for a temporary sink, I managed to cut the old top keeping the sink in tact. Then it was time to reconnect the plumbing. If it disconnected without a problem, it should go back together just fine, at least in theory.
Theories require testing.
I am not sure why I needed to provide the occasion.
Alas I had to make a trip to get some replacement parts. Not once, but twice. The first time I wondered around the store looking. I knew it would require creativity since the parts in need of replacing were quite old. I did not want to solder copper.
Ricky spotted me. Maybe it was my quizzical look. He may have mistaken it for a pained stare at the display with a variety of options. I explained the parts in my hand and how they needed to connect in order to work. After a brief pause, he moved quickly from item to item and eventually had in his hands all that I would need. I got them home and put them together as he outlined. Bingo!
Yes, that was too easy. One more problem developed. I told Patty as I left, “If Ricky is still there, I will tap his genius.”
He was. I did.
Maybe It’s Not Your Kitchen
A couple of recent conversations reminded me that we live in a day where our needs often outstrip our expertise. Despite the pressure to know it all and do it all, we simply don’t have the time. Younger parents need older parents. Younger people need older people. It also works in reverse. Older parents need younger parents. Older people need younger people. You get the idea.
I needed Ricky.
The problem for most of us is admitting that we do need someone. One of the oddest places that this goes undeclared is in the Church. We don’t mind admitting that we need God, most of the time. We do find it hard to tell others we need them. Maybe it is due in part to the individualist thread that dominates our culture. Then again, it may point to our own sense of god-like qualities. We don’t need anyone else. We are self-sufficient. Except we are not. Not really.
We are currently working through Paul’s letter to Christians in Rome at Snow Hill. One of the ways to describe the way Paul lays out his long argument is to suggest that when worship goes wrong, it all goes down hill. When we assume the sort of self-reliance that denies our need for/of others, we take up god-like qualities for ourselves. We get worship wrong because we fail to see interdependence as a necessary feature for human beings.
Jewish Jesus-followers and Gentile Jesus-followers needed each other. No one could point to their superiority in the faith. Doing so undermined the faithfulness of Jesus to fulfill what neither group could do on their own. At some point they would need to take up the confession that Jesus is Lord and not themselves or their particular ethnically flavored version of following Jesus.
Ricky knew how to put it all together for me so that I could then replicate what he showed me.