Getting up early for the routine of morning. Ablutions in the salle de bain a. (pardon my French) and then the usual half awake gathering of juice, coffee and pills. I sit in my very lazy boy and gaze out the south windows to the garden and also view the parking lot, west of the garden.
The old Saab that our Son lovingly made into a fast sports car. Whistling as the 15 pound turbocharger bent around a tight corner on a local narrow road, channeled through granite boulders, but it now has a bad second gear and an extension cord at the hood. The other collection of vehicles, all facing me bringing memories of transportation. Horse power in the corral that nicker and ask to be useful.
Musing on the dog eared books near me, smelling the warm coffee nearby and distracted by the memories brought forth, suddenly pleasing. Watching for the hummingbird sipping at the feeder with it’s long proboscis looks like the cord coming out of the Saab.
I fondly remember the dishes I washed last night when I operated the coffee maker, another successful stack in the drying rack. Morning sun as I relax and read Thomas Moore’s quotes about these types of thoughts. Everyday life that is not ordinary. A butterfly with a damaged wing affects a galaxy a thousand light years away.
We are Created in the womb by the thoughts of our creator and brought into the universe for His joy and pleasure.
Julie arises and I make our bed and feel the quilt that Grandma Jeannie made, and I center it. There is wind visible now, it’s hot and 90 degrees is forecast. Outside work will be brief, but still fulfilling. An expectation of today’s holiday and the smell of the grill wafting over the parking lot for guests coming this afternoon..
Time now to lay out clothes, toss the laundry into the washer and go see what is coming up in the beauty of the garden.
Ordinary day? Just miracles one after another, another extraordinary day. Love it.
There indeed is a ‘but’ in our in all of our thoughts and actions. My brother and I were at a local eatery/bar and our waiter was ‘interesting’ to us. The waiter seemed to be a rude woman. Very sarcastic too which to me, can be charming . (I have become aware that being sarcastic is not a very good conversation trend) It’s fun when you are with a close friend. Just don’t make a habit of it.
I asked if they had french fries and our waiter replied. “it’s a bar, do you want a beer too?” The fries were good, not hand cut but OK. I still did not know what to say to him. His costume was pretty good. He had nice trim razor bangs and hair with slight blue coloring. Oh well, so what, It was a person which the establishment had hired, Most certainly followed by local whisper gossip heard in small towns.
A saucy Lisa Minelli with menus and a pad and pencil. Cute, attractive but giving us a wry inward thought. A movie actress pose with hips slightly bent to the side accompanied by a wry smile. Both my brother and I are very humorous types and attend the same church which is very scriptural and very welcoming. To everyone. Love one another is a prime focus. Everyone.
The recent topic that was being preached was about the ‘buts in our lives’ Spelled with One T. Many ways we all use that modifying word. I will do that, but I do not have the time thing. In our immediate situation, I will accept this waiter but without judgment. Respect and the usual friendly banter we all have towards people in the service industry. Good tip always.
We continued our delicious meal with our usual brother to brother ways. “ what do you think our waiter is?” Not sure. “Sarcastic and forgot my refill on my coke!”. In my usual direct way, I asked our waiter if they were a Christian? A firm NO came forth with a disgusted description of his mother that was a woman of faith and how controlling and offensive she was. Boldly replying to my question. Instantly I asked “would you like to be one?” No never!
My brother then went up to the bar and showed our waiter the bill and he said “it was wrong as it was too little”. “No one has ever done that before!” the waiter said. Our sodas were removed from the bill for being forthright and honest and the bill was then the ‘correct’ amount. Outside as my brother readied his Austrian motorcycle and I prepared to walk to my truck, we smiled and I swept my hand towards the ground and said “seeds were planted”
We both smiled and agreed, indeed that was good. Declaring our Christian belief andshowing respect and honesty. It was pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe
Sitting in my comfy chair and reading in the morning. The snow sneaked in last night and the small step ladder outside the kitchen window shows six inches on the three steps. A sturdy little thing of aluminum that helps the reach to the kitchen roof with the snow rake. Just clean around the two vents and try to control the ice dams.
Musing on writing something and finding solace in a brief Tennyson quote: “Death closes all, but but something near the end, some work of noble note, my yet be done” 1.
It occurs to most of us, that what have we yet to do now that the curtain is getting close to coming down on the play? As most of us, I have worked hard and made a few good choices to be where I am now. The great dream of a beautiful wife, younger than I! Two great sons of intellect and achievements that love us and our 30 acre homestead.
We have all worked hard and with sweat and satisfaction through most of it. The gardens of provision and beauty, our mechanical shop of provision and repair, still usable now for us and friends. Tools that only need an occasional handle because we use them. Heating with wood and always splitting and stacking and calculating supply. I have gotten so fussy in the winter that I have a tape measure out there to make certain certain lengths are put in the wheelbarrow. Long, short and gnarly for day and night fires in the stove. It’s in the middle of the house.
All of the accomplishments great and small some of which are still visible. Some are tenuous and need conversation to reveal them to one another. Pictures on the stairway wall of births of the kids, a summer kitchen and a field all limned by a photo of Julie, very pregnant with our first son, Bjorn. Myself, just our of basic training taken by a pro in town with my cover just so, leaning to my right in my dress blues. I look happy and am looking to my right and smiling.
Another accomplishment that I just heard today from my son Soren’s good friend Zeke. I asked
him before a Saturday breakfast what he would call our home. He only paused for a few seconds and said; “Casa Del Pas” house of peace. A good handful of men come to join us at times. Good strong young men that are bonded with Soren and us. All of them live in the area but many times Julie and I awaken to extra boots in the entry.
Making sure the coffee maker is filled with water and the fire is properly set and banked is my job as I rise earlier. Breakfast on Saturday mornings with pancakes and eggs/bacon and good coffee after an hour or two. One bathroom and the ballet for it and the preparation for breakfast is done as the snow keeps coming. Pastor Zeke blesses the food and our meal is shared. House of peace indeed. “The author appears on the last act, the best of all”2 1 and 2 Lord Tennyson
The shop was our sole source of income and it worked for us. Several sources of heat to keep it going in the below zero temps were used. Wood heat at first, a primitive waste oil burner that poured oil all over the floor when I forgot the drip feed at night and the oil covered the floor. One overworked shop vac and a lot of squeegee work cleaned it up. The shop vac needed to be tossed but at least the shop was safe.
Another waste oil furnace, mounted up high worked for years until it wore out and the expense to replace it with another one of the same company was unreasonable. It had ‘issues’ that would not be fixed by the supplier.
Back to wood heat and recently, a pellet stove that kept the shop warm enough to protect the well pressure tank and pipes. We had a much newer waste oil furnace hanging up there that refused to run.
It was an exhausting week. Our shop was cold and the weather was closing in with single digit temperatures close to thanksgiving. My son, Soren was spending hours, days, working on the shop furnace. Up high on the Little Giant ladder, propped up near the burner module on the waste oil burner. We have hanging from the ceiling in our small automotive shop built decades ago. New parts, a total rebuild of the oil module and ignition, cleaning the cabinet. As the saying goes, the whole nine yards. No joy and it was going to be in the single digits in another day at night.
We all prayed for wisdom and help from our Lord Jesus to solve this problem. The next day
I had a vivid dream and in it I saw the furnace pressure gauge steady at three pounds and the furnace running. The manufacturer’s representative talked with us on the phone and there were a few tests but to no avail.
Soren took the burner module out for the third time and examined a very small inserted nozzle below the main nozzle. It resembled a very small deburring tool with slits. It had a few clogs from carbon blocking the heated air and oil. Just a few. He removed the entire oil distribution block and with new brushes and the wash tank gave it one more try.
It began to fire and swapping oil supplies didn’t change things but after bleeding air out of the lines and resetting many times, it began to work, and work well. Steady heat and the pressure was perfect at three pounds and after tweaking the air pressure, it was done. Perfect flame from the view port seen from below and after gaining shop temperature, restarted with no hesitation and ran all night with no lock outs and when I went out this morning, it was still perfect.
Steady and warm and exactly at three pounds pressure. The gauge in my dream was the same only in the dream it was in perfect focus. This picture was as good as my cell phone can get from the shop floor this morning. A quarter way up the gauge face which is exactly three pounds pressure.
With much Thanksgiving this morning before the family feast and an unbelievable sense of peace I awakened to walk to the shop and take that photo so I would write this column.
He is good. Once again before us and beside us and all around us. Within us. He is for us and I was blessed with the comfort he gave me in that dream. It will be OK and this is what it will be soon. Strength and endurance given and the cleanup began last night and we put things away and got a good start on all the drips and drops of waste oil on the floor. The light brown shop ‘floor dry’ works best and you can scrub the oil spots with your boots. Broom it up and it looks good. This time we had to just do it till the bag was near empty. Also, this time the boot scraping was more of a dance and there was internal joy and remembered music too.
I give you dear reader the encouragement of His goodness and promise in these little things that are not world shaking, but were for us. The timing was perfect and the work was hard, messy and seemed endless to no avail. Why? “Please Lord, show us how!”
Indeed, this morning is November 28th and we are thankful for the two deer that Soren and Julie got early this week. A healthy and tired family and our older son and his wife will be here soon to prepare the feast and heart felt thanks for all things. I can smell the turkey and the mince pies cooking and it’s pretty good, Jack Gator Scribe for the Peterson family
Jack gators grace notes 