Today I was once again as tired as I have ever been in my life. I even fell asleep typing – sitting up – with my hands on the keyboard. Not a pretty sight. Today was the day a team came in to help us tear out the walls of the house. Most of the group was college students from Tennessee, along with a few men from Vineyard’s relief team. And tear out walls they did. I’m not sure what I expected. Chris had to leave early on in their efforts, not because she was shook up or sad, though. Both our dogs had appointments at the vet. That’s another story – they both have early stages of heartworms, so we have to watch them carefully over the next four months. That came out of nowhere. Just what we need – one more concern, one more worry. But back to the demo.
We tried to get there early so we could clear some things out of the way before the team arrived. But the inspector for the SBA (they offer loans at very small interest rates) was already there, napping in his car. We showed him around, he took notes and measurements and asked questions. He was a house inspector from Iowa in his real life, so he told us realistically that the house could be repaired (yea!) but that there was structural damage from the tree that fell on it (Boo!). He was quite helpful, and by the time he left we were once again revved up about getting started on rebuilding. And once again stymied. We were still in the notorious “Yellow Zone,” which is now being published every day in the newspaper.
By the time he left the crew was arriving and unloading their supplies. “Howdy’s” and “How do you do’s” were shared all around, and the work began. They completely emptied the house of all the leftover “possibles” for salvage. The grabbed their individual hammers and pry bars, split into rooms and … Let the games begin! Walls were crashing down, wheelbarrows were on the move, sheetrock flew through windows and paneling rode out the doors. I had a hard time trying to find a place to plug in. Then my phone rang. I ended up being on the line with the flood insurance company, then the windstorm people, then the flood adjuster, then a guy from the Baptist General Convention of Texas, then my brother Stan drove up on his motorcycle. By the time I could go back inside, Chris was back from the vet with her news and it was time to walk over to the aid station for lunch. The crew went down to the seawall to have their sandwiches.
And then we went in. Everything already looked so different. You could see into every bedroom at once. There were piles of sheetrock and trim everywhere. That’s where we began, just picking stuff up. When the team got back, they joined us and the cleanup was done. Back to work. Once again, I wasn’t sure what to do. That’s when I had my personal revelation. I wanted to do two things during this demo process. One, I wanted to be directly a part of helping Chris get the new kitchen she has always wanted (not exactly how I thought it would happen, but easy enough to do). Second, I wanted to wail out on the atrocious pink tile that me and my three boys have had to live with for thirteen years. The tile part was easy enough. I found out the bathroom was under attack, so I approached the field general and asked if I could take a few swings with my hammer. He gladly complied, and I lit in. It was great. Tile after tile crunched under the ferocity of my attack. But my attack didn’t last long. I simply gave out. Fifteen or twenty swings and I retreated. I’m not sure, but I think the general was laughing under his mask. I know I would have been if I were in his shoes. Well, that wish fulfilled, I felt pretty good. I returned to the other one – being a part of the kitchen demo. There were three guys already in the actual kitchen, so there wasn’t room for me. Instead I went into the den and attacked the separating wall that Chris always wanted torn down. The problem was – it had been the outside wall of the house when the addition was put in, and the original siding was still there, under the paneling. My job became taking off that siding. And it was back breaking work. Antique nail heads would break off rather than give in and let my hammer have its way with them. Instead of calmly falling to the floor when the nails were removed, the board would split into two or three pieces. When quitting time came, I was just over half way to the top. But I was on my way to fulfilling my other dream. And this one felt even better than smashing ugly pink tiles.
That’s when I began to think again. Why? Why did it feel good to smash pink, but so much better to remove boards? It’s all a matter of motivation. I hate pink. I love Chris. How much more effective our work for God would be if we did it out of love for him rather than just out of hatred for sin. Both are fine. But action because of love brings excitement and anticipation, not just at seeing the job done, but at seeing the look one on the loved one’s face, at knowing that she knows that you love her.
1 Peter 4:8 says, “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.”
Father, thank you for the motivation love brings. Help us to act out of love for each other, for you. Amen.
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