November 7 – “Promise”

Yesterday I heard Chris talking to Jachin (our four-year-old grandson).  He wanted to know when he could come sleep at Nana and DadDad's house.  She put her finger to her mouth (as he sometimes does), thought for a long time, and said, "How about on Friday night?"  Actually, it wasn't much of a mental stretch.  We had already agreed to baby sit while his mom and dad went to a conference.  But he was so excited.  He ran and told his little brother, "Micah!  We get to sleep at Nana and DadDad's!"  He was beside himself the rest of the afternoon.  And all Chris did was promise that he could come over "Friday night," whenever that is in a four-year-old's mind.   I finished tearing out the rest of the wood floor today.  I only had the L-shaped living room to go, but it was the biggest in the house.  I had my trusty power saw, though, and the generator was working fine, so I was ready to get to work.  But before working, I found out something more important had to happen.  Chris had been sleeping on her design for the kitchen and family rooms.  That meant she needed to talk it through out loud, and I got to be her sounding board.  It's a scary position, this sounding board.  Sometimes all you have to do is listen and occasionally nod – a typical husband response.  But we've been married a long time now, and Chris doesn't just settle for that any more.  She wants real responses.  She wants me to care about it as passionately as she does.  And that means an occasional suggestion here and there or even a fresh idea.  Active listening.  Hard work.  Anyway, I really did like what she proposed, so it was kind of fun to try to picture what this place was going to look like "some day."    But then she finished.  And the fun really began.  On to the wood floors.  I made three or four long cuts across the grain of the wood.  Oak that has been wet and still is in places and is warped because of it is not easy to cut, even with a power saw.  Especially for an old geezer like me.  I was sweating more than my share before I ever started cramming the crowbar under the wood and peeling it up, section by section.  That part wouldn't have been so bad, but I also had to carry it out to the street, and that stuff is heavy.  Some fit in the wheelbarrow, but some came up in sections too big to fit, so it was drag time.  I had about a section and a half left to go, and I was slowing way down.  Chris asked if I was ready for some lunch, or would I rather finish the floor first.  I had a quick response for that one, "I don't think I can finish without some food.  That's probably why I'm so wiped out."   She said she would head over to McAlister's Deli while I rested (since I was filthy).  I grabbed a bottle of water and crashed into a rocking chair on the front porch.    It didn't take long to guzzle down the water, and that unfinished floor was just a few feet away, calling out to me.  Finally, I couldn't take it any longer.  I decided to keep on working.  Maybe I could get just a little more done before Chris got back with food.  Rip and drag.  Rip and drag.  Food is coming.  Stop and watch the bobcat pick it up and drop it into the dumptruck.  Rip and drag.  McAlister's has pretty good sweet tea.  Stop and hear Neighbor Neal's advice about how to rip up wood floors.  Rip and drag.  Food.  It's coming.  She'll be here any minute. Before I knew it, I had ripped and dragged the last of the floor out to the street.  And Chris wasn't back yet.  I moved on to some scraping, still longing for that deli sandwich, cole slaw, and huge glass of sweet tea.  Finally she returned.  She said she did call to let me know the line was long, but that must have been when I was watching the loud bobcat eat up the floor on the street.  Never heard it.    But I never minded the wait, either.  I was living a lesson without knowing it (happens to me a lot – especially lately).  That promise of food went a long way toward energizing me to accomplish just a little bit more.  That's the point of the promises God gives us, isn't it?  The promise of peace to get us through confusing times (John 14:27 – "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid").  The promise of his presence to get us through lonely times (Matthew 28:20 – And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age").  The promise of heaven to get us through … these times (John 14:1-3 - "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.  In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am")!   Father, thank you for your promise.  Not for any one in particular right now.  Just, Your Promise.  Amen.