Garage

Garage

I am a firm believer that the garage is a man’s domain. I realize that saying this will raise the ire of gender sensitive, politically correct people. The fact is that I don’t care. I was raised in a time when men were the kings of their castle or at least of their garage. I am told that times change and I had better change with them. I draw the line at my garage.

My dream of a garage is the space where I can putter, hide out, tinker with small household repair jobs or just sit and have a beer. It is a designated space that has a cement floor, orderly shelves, and a workbench with my tools each in their proper place. It is where I stow my hunting, fishing, golfing, and floating gear. My bike and cars want to find safe haven there as well.  

In reality my garage is quite different. It is the one space where anything that doesn’t have a home, finds one here. Half of the shelves are covered with tubs of seasonal clothes, toys for the grandkids, and treasures from other people’s garage sales. What doesn’t fit on those shelves takes up a significant amount of floor space. Items that no longer have inside décor appeal are deposited on the other side of the laundry room door leading to the garage. This is where I find full garbage bags carried from the kitchen.

I have two vehicles that have never seen the inside of the garage. Several years ago, after a massive purge of non-appropriate garage items, I tried to drive both vehicles in the garage. When I got the second one in, I found I could not get out. The fit was so tight I couldn’t open the door. I guess if I want both of them in the garage, I will have to live in one.

I refuse to give up on my dream garage. The battle for garage space lives on. Someone once said, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I feel like I am traveling on that road as I fight for my garage!

Root Canal

Root Canal

Just the thought of that awful toothache signaling a trip to the dentist sends shivers down my spine. Anyone who has experienced a tooth in pain knows exactly what I am talking about. I don't mind the occasional cavity, gum check and cleaning but I dread the root canal.

About a month ago I began feeling a little soreness in my back tooth. It started  after my six-month checkup and cleaning. At first I thought it was just the result of an aggressive dental hygienist. But when pain persisted I had my dentist take another look. He referred me to an endodonist (the root canal specialist). I knew then that I was in trouble. He spoke those fateful words, “you need a root canal!”

Over my adult life I have had several root canals, none of which I enjoyed. I vividly remember my first one. At the time I was pastoring a small church in Minneapolis. As the pain increased I decided to go over to the church and pray (we lived in the parsonage next to the church). I prayed like I never prayed before. The harder I prayed for the Lord to heal me, the worse the pain. While I was praying my wife called a dentist who happened to be a member of the church. He came and took me to his office where I experienced the ultimate healing, a root canal.

Modern dentistry has eased some of my primal fears. I can't say that I look forward to the regular check ups. I am still somewhat anxious and my blood pressure is always high. However, considering the risk of more invasive dental procedures, I yield to their wise counsel of brushing twice a day, flossing and semi annual cleaning.

My hope is that dental hygiene will ensure I keep my remaining teeth intact until I see Jesus face to face.

Clouds

Clouds

 I write this blog sitting on our patio this warm summer afternoon. The perennials are in full bloom and I feel like I am in the middle of my own Garden of Eden. What catches my eye are the large cloud formations sailing across the brilliant blue sky. They stop and hang over the Bridger Mountains like a spattering of whip cream.

Big Sky country provides an unparalleled 360-degree view. Because there are no obstructions, I see cloud formations building up miles away. The Cumulus clouds that look like large cotton balls that can turn into Cumulonimbus Clouds that reach 45,000 feet. The Stratus clouds gather over the Bridgers like a pall after a cool rain.

Clouds remain a mystery to me. They bring rain, lightening and snow. From the ground they look sturdy but when I fly through them they are a fine mist. They take all kinds of shapes. I remember as a child lying on the grass looking up and imaging their different shapes and faces.

Gazing at these floating islands in the sky, I am reminded of a verse from a Joni Mitchell song of the 1960’s Both Sides Now:

“Rows and rows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air and feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way. But now they only block the sun, they rain and they snow on everyone, so many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way. I've looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down and still somehow it's cloud illusions I recall, I really don't know clouds at all…”

Sky and life would be incomplete without the clouds.

Fences

Fences

Recently I helped my son Tim build a fence to enclose a backyard. The owners had started the project by setting the posts but decided that it was beyond their skill level to complete. When I arrived on the scene, the job looked ominous because the posts were not set correctly. As we screwed on the boards you could easily see the horizontal and vertical bends over the length of the fence. When completed we dubbed it the Wave Fence.

Fences are so commonplace that we hardly take any notice of them. Out here in the rural West most fences are barbed wire with some split rail and jack fences thrown in. In different parts of the country fence styles change: bamboo, chain link, wrought iron, electric, vinyl, picket, pig wire, and many more. When I was in Great Britain, many of the rural fences were made of fieldstone.

Why all the fuss about fences? Well, while I was helping Tim with the wave fence I kept thinking about a poem I read long ago by Robert Frost. At the time all I could recall was that it was about a dispute he had with a neighbor over the need for a fence. Looking around the subdivision where we stood I saw  backyard fences of all designs. I wondered what people were trying to fence in and what they were trying to fence out.

Here’s a little of Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall”: “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall….I let my neighbor know beyond the hill and on a day we meet to walk the line….He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors’…Why do they make good neighbors?...Before I build a wall I’d ask to know what I was walling in or walling out and to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, that wants it down.”

Instead of building a neighborhood of families, it appears we are building a neighborhood of fences. I hope Robert Frost will forgive me for butchering his poem.