October 24 – “Of Humps and Holes”

Chris got to take a break today.  She went with April for her doctor's appointment since Nathan had to work overtime.  I didn't go straight to the house either.  I spent a few early hours working on the computer.  I do have a sermon to prepare, bills to pay, and a wedding on Saturday in Houston.  Not to mention arranging for relief workers, coming up with project lists for them to do (please let me know if you or your neighbors need any help with cleanup, tearing out sheetrock, spraying for mold, chainsawing trees – whatever – so I can see if the volunteers match the needs), and fielding phone call after phone call of best wishes, how can we help, and even the sad call about the death of Hutchinson's daughter.  Then I did all the errand running.  Two banks.  Gas in the car.  Pick up prescription.  Clothes from the Cleaners (Chris finally farmed out some of her salvage attempts!).  Newly reopened post office (sort of – it's in a big trailer like the banks, but it's better than having to drive to LaMarque for mail).  By the time I got to the house I felt like I was starting two hours behind in a job that would never end anyway.   The long-awaited floor guy came today.  Our contractor sent him to check out the wood floors and see if they can be salvaged.  Chris really wanted to keep them, but they were buckled into really bad humps in several places.  Plus we were not at all sure what they looked like underneath.  You never know what strange creatures may lurk in the deep, dark recesses of two-inch tall nothingness – trapped since the flood under fifty-year-old planks of three quarter inch thick oak.  Remnants of the flood's sewer-salt dampness?  Assuredly.  Mold?  Certainly.  As-yet undiscovered species of sea-creatures spawned in these unique, lab-like conditions?  Maybe.  Monsters?  Hmmm.   The floor guy did his walk-through and made initial recommendations.  He wanted to talk to his restoration specialist, and he made no promises – the floor is in bad shape in places – but he gave us some hope.  He did say, though, that we had to cut out the parts that had formed the wavy humps (no doubt in memory of the actual waves that crashed above them just a month ago).  So when he left, that's what we did.  We didn't have the proper tool (a circular saw – both mine were flood victims), but we did have Josh's Sawzall, a miraculous "I-can-cut-anything" tool.  So using the power tool hooked up to Kel's generator, along with a hammer and pry bar, we managed to cut some holes in our floor.  It was not easy, either.  Chris made the comment that if we were able to save this floor she would never worry about scratches on it again.  Five holes in the floor.  In strategically located spots, of course, to ensure better circulation of the drying air.  Still-standing water under one.  Mold under all.  Didn't see any monster, but you know how good they are at hiding when it's light out.    So what's the lesson in poking holes in the floor?  I guess it has to do with discovering what's beneath the foundation of the way you live your life.  What are your decisions based on?  What is behind your everyday, no-one-is-looking behavior?  Moldy assumptions?  Stinky, sewage-water sins?  Hidden monsters of things you refuse to give up to God?  Remember the parable Jesus told in Matthew 7:24-25.  "Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock."  Get one of our preschoolers (or Mama Chris) to teach you that song.     Father, help me to live like my foundation is built on you.  Anything less is – well, less.  And I would be stupid to settle for less.  Forgive me for the countless times I have settled for less.  Amen