I woke up early for some quiet time with God. It’s always calming and serene for me to take in His Word while the pre-dawn sun is making its way through the trees and the birds are gloriously announcing the arrival of the day with their chirps. My view from the patio of Jeff and Lindsey’s pool house is of Georgia pines, tall and majestic and waving ever so slightly in the morning breeze.
It was an inspiring morning, and after having spent time in prayer and reflection with my Heavenly Father, I decided to spend some time with my biological father. The time spent was metaphorical as I took to cleaning and organizing his old Craftsman toolbox. In it was a visual cacophony of wrenches. Open-ended, closed-ended, ratchet, in both inches and millimeters; the task of sorting all the hardware was not a simple one.
But as I dove into the task, I found myself taking a trip back in time to when my dad attempted to apprentice me in all things do-it-yourself. Keep in mind my father was a good instructor. Unfortunately, he found in me a clumsy and uninterested student. Still, I remember playing the role of his assistant on many occasions. Passing my dad the right wrench. Having to run to the toolshed for a different screwdriver. Going into the house to refill my dad’s cup of water.
I wish I had paid closer attention to what my dad was trying to teach me. I’m moderately handy, but light years away from the handyman my father was. Still, this morning was not about my skillsets, past or present. This morning was about time with my dad. A time I will always have whenever I use one of the million wrenches he left me.