I took on a home project the other day, replacing the kitchen faucet. It took all day, odd tools and a session with my past habits. It began, like most ‘easy’ home projects without any trouble. Removing that drippy faucet was awkward for an older man on his back, under the sink, and being somewhat careful to not disconnect any pipes of drainage and to avoid set mouse traps. Two fittings did not seem possible to remove. They were up high, constricted and large. Rummaging in the old big toolbox in the standard dimension wrench drawer revealed a very old Ford wrench that amazingly, seemed correct for the job. It was a perfect fit and was offset . A one inch open end, perhaps for my 41 Ford coupe?

I took the old faucet and noticed it was a major brand that sets forth a ‘lifetime warranty’ Sounds good! I took it to the major big-box store where it was purchased some years ago and ran into an instant refusal. The initially friendly young woman behind the counter asked for the paid receipt and it was long gone from years ago. I was expecting ‘no problem, it’s warranted for life! Go get another one and bring it back for exchange” It happened when the original one failed a decade ago. There was no receipt then either. Things had changed at the big-box. Then an an argument ensued from what was supposed to be an easy return.

It got heated, at the final refusal, I spun around towards the door and threw the defective faucet on the sidewalk and it lost a few pieces in the process. I slunk away, one of my digits shaking from the emotion and sat behind the wheel of the Fusion. I knew I was wrong and I prayed for somehow to make it right.

I finally came back in and the counter woman had an expression that was unpleasant to see.I went up to a smiling worker and asked for the store manager. He came and after a short, somewhat snarky conversation, gave in and told me to go get another Delta faucet off the shelf and bring it back. The manager opened the box on the counter and pulled out the faucet and parts and ‘tossed in’ the remains of the old one. I took the awkward double handful and put them in the car. What I had just done worried me.

I went back in (3^rd time) and went shopping with the list. I met the manager a ways down in the huge store and called him over by name. I was genuine and mild by now in apologizing for my attitude. The manager understood and they shook hands. For ‘some reason’ I remembered the managers name to call out to him. Astonishing, it Felt good. I tracked down the clerks he had words with and humbled himself as best he knew how and also apologized and asked them shake on it. It felt right.

Later, on the drive home, I realized the freedom I had experienced and broke down while listening to a friends song about someone that was still hurting but was still able to look back on the Lord and ask for forgiveness and strength to do what was good and right. I knew another change had occurred within me. Deep with truth about my brokenness and looking for help from the only one that could help.

It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson/ Jack Gator