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.