The Gift

I couldn't stop laughing at work today.  I was trying to explain to a co-worker about a Christmas gift that I once gave my mother.

It was a long time ago.  It was that groovy time in my life when I wore bell-bottom, corduroy pants and combed my long, feathered hair over my ears.  I also remember I wore a large belt buckle during that disturbing time.  It had my name in bold, capital letters, “KEVIN’ conspicuously spelled out for all to see.  It was the mid 70’s and I was maybe 10 years old.

One day during the run up to Christmas, I removed my entire net worth, my lifelong savings from a super-secret, wooden box hidden in my bedroom.  I took the loot to the jewelry store to purchase a custom necklace for my mom.  After they gift wrapped it for me, I went directly home to place it under the Christmas tree.  I just knew she’d love it!

On Christmas morning, it was my mom’s turn to open her gift.  I was so excited to see her open it.  Finally, the custom necklace was in her hands and I saw the smile of appreciation on her face.  I knew it …she loved it.  It was a stunning gold necklace that had an incredibly cool golden name plate at the base with her name, “LINDA” conspicuously spelled out for all to see.  I was so proud of the gift and my mother was gracious in receiving it.

So at work today, I was laughing uncontrollably, to tears, when I thought about this gift and tried to explain it to a co-worker.  It was a short necklace with her name on it that more resembled a dog collar then the classy necklace I intended.  Now just stop for a minute and try to visualize someone wearing a necklace like that in public.

Look, in my defense, that little 10 year old just knew that he loved his mom and wanted to get her a gift that she’d always remember.  And it worked.  It was quite memorable.

But having my mom receive my gift with her gratitude, love, and her warm smile … that was a gift of grace that she gave me in return.

And that too is something I will always remember.

The Plumber

On Thursday and Friday last week, I was running out of hot water too quickly.  I called a friend of mine that’s a plumber on Saturday night.  He said it was probably the elements in the hot water tank.  He said he didn't have time to come over, but he’d talk me through the repair.  He told me it was an easy fix.  I asked him if an accountant could do it … he paused and then reassured me that it was easy.

Sunday morning, I started to drain the tank.  My friend said to wait 30 minutes and then unscrew the top element.  I should have waited 60 minutes because I received an unexpected and un-refreshing shower.  I finally got the element out and took it ALL the way into Lowe’s in the next town to provide visual aide.  I showed a helper dude that was wearing a blue vest the old element.  He studied it like a pro and then gave me two new replacement elements.  I went ALL the way home and found out Mr. Lowe’s dude gave me the wrong elements.  They didn't fit.  Back to the store to purchase the correct elements.  After much struggling and difficulty, I got the replacement elements into the hot water tank.  I sent a picture to my friend and he approved.

I turned on the water to the tank and then went upstairs to turn on the hot water in the Master Bedroom tub.  Noise, sputtering, intermittent water flow, and rusty looking water color.  I was panicking a bit by what I was seeing and hearing.  I was running up and down the stairs from the bedroom to the garage, working up a healthy sweat, trying to figure out if I did something wrong.  Still in a controlled panic, I turned on the power to the circuit breakers (please don’t ask me why) and tried to get my friend on the phone.  Carrie was telling me, as I’m running back and forth, that she smells something burning.  My friend finally answers the phone and tells me everything is fine.  When I tell him that I turned on the circuit breaker he says, “No, you don’t want to do that.  You’ll fry the elements.”  So I turn off the power and my friend says I’m probably OK.

Two hours later.  I’m not OK.  My friend says I probably cooked the thermostat.  So it’s back to the store and I pick up two new thermostats.

 

During the removal process, I strip out one of the screw heads and had to cut one of the wires to get the old thermostat out.  Now, with a short wire, there’s not enough slack to attach to the new thermostat.  I place it at an awkward angle and make it fit … I figure it’ll be covered anyway and I was sorta proud of my MacGyver improvising.  I send a picture to my friend and he says I’m probably OK.

Two hours later.  I’m not OK.

My friend tells me to go out and listen to hear if the elements are working.  I text him back that I couldn't hear the elements, but I knew that there was power to the unit because my ear just got zapped!  Sadly, my new elements must've got fried too.

A full day later, I’m back where I started.  No hot water, I need to drain the tank again, and I need to purchase new elements.

Before going to sleep, I set the temperature on the tank to “a little hotter than volcano lava”.  This morning the water temperature was only lukewarm.  So, I figure I got one out of two elements installed correctly.  Hey, 50% success … not too bad.  Unfortunately though, I’ll still have to go out and purchase two more elements because I don’t know which one is working.

Wearing my Speed Racer pajamas and bunny slippers, I hooked the garden hose to the tank, shut off the water, and let the draining of the tank begin.  I’m actually getting pretty good at this.

Then I went into the kitchen to get a pot of coffee going.  (Insert suspenseful drama music)  No water.  With amazing restraint and composure, I accept that there will be no coffee this morning.

I wiped a tear from my eye and e-mailed my boss telling him of my repair woes and that I’d be working from home today.  I also told him not to worry … my friend said the repair is easy.

It’s always good to have goals.  Today, I want freshly brewed coffee, a hot shower, and to make it to the end of the day alive.  I got this. 

The Carpenter

I got a call from the tenant occupying our rental home last week.  This is the same home where Carrie and I lived for several years while raising our young family.  He’s a nice guy and he’s been in the rental home for several years.  He’s been an ideal tenant with no problems ... that is, until I received his unreasonable phone call request.  The conversation immediately turned when the tenant claimed that the swing set in the back yard was rotting and wanted my permission to tear it down.  What?  Tear it down?  My heart sank as I shook my head back and forth in disbelief.  This guy obviously didn't know what he was asking.  Was he blind?  Couldn't he see that this was no ordinary swing set?

I was with the carpenter when it was constructed.  It was twenty-something years ago when we hand-picked the lumber.  We also purchased several cement bags to secure the base.  Then we returned home to begin our project.  He was a perfectionist.  He was truly a master craftsman.  Each board was measured with precision.  Each cut was carefully made with his steady hands.  I watched in awe as this skilled carpenter busily created his artistic rendition of a custom swing set.  And soon, I saw him place his one-of-a-kind creation upon the blank canvas of our backyard lawn.

So, it’s non-negotiable, Mr. Tenant … the monument stays.

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My dad turned 77 years old last month.  He's been married to my mom for 55 years.  He taught me how to build relationships that last ... and swing sets too.

This memory makes me smile.  I’m gonna call him.