In a big world seemingly bent on deconstruction, I find it helpful to focus on things close and good; lately, the construction of our front deck.
Our carpenter has already done plenty of good work on our bungalow. He tells me he has ample incentive to do a great job — our home is in clear sight of his own, across the road.
The deck started with a single photo of an unusual design I liked; fairly small with fat posts, angled corners, and wide, welcoming stairs. Enough room to comfortably fit a pair of oldsters or youngsters, or any combination.
“Can you build this, Brady?” I asked the man I call the “can do” guy.
He looked it over. “Shouldn’t be too hard.” A few days later I noticed his trailer laden with lumber. And when I got home from work yesterday, there he was, all sweated up, surrounded by pressure treated pine and sawdust, and the skeleton of our deck.
This time next week, he’ll be done. It’s keeping me awake, imagining it, and that’s a peck better than allowing bad news to hollow out my precious night hours. Nevertheless, like the robins that have already checked out our new railings, both will take wings. Life is transient. It perches here but a moment. Sometimes it sings. Sometimes it leaves bitter piles. But always, it vanishes.
Father, fill my mind with your eternal perspective on my world and my home. Most crucial, help me focus first on you: ever close and always good.