A tend-to-errand gave me this week’s rumination which is the only word that will really give life to the happening. However, the title had to work its way out, so listen to two stories and one more in the last paragraph. The money earner in your household may require certain training and respect as did my brother-in-law’s being a pediatrician. However, his household ran smoothly because of his wife’s list of ‘little men.” (no gender offense) The yard man, of course, and the name she called for stopped up toilets, and Henry with his hammer and saw when a stair rail needed mending. Story 2 involves the family of a nuclear scientist. They went on vacation and gave a teen-age son $50 to buy food. I don’t remember how he ate, but he brought a car repair manual twenty -five summers ago with the cash and has been gainfully employed and an on the spot helper in restarting vehicles that have stopped. If we can’t do what is needed, aren’t we glad someone else can.
I have the gift of understanding fabric and sewing. I learned on my mother’s 1930’s machine housed in a fold down cabinet. In 1954 I was given a Featherweight Singer which served all my needs for more than 25 years. Then I bought two steps up with a few more options. This required a specific level of care. I have used a shop out in an industrial neighborhood on the west side of town. Not only do household hobby sewers come, but shops and businesses bring a variety of machines for repair. This group worked their maintenance magic on my machine in mid-July, yet when I got back to a project, the auto threader wouldn’t work. Today was the first time someone could drive me down the freeway to the galvanized building where the business is housed. I explained to the Latino lady the problem and she went in the back to bring out a small Vietnamese employee. “He doesn’t speak English. Follow him.” We wound our way between tables with machines waiting their turn. Rows of shelves had one small box next to another, each labeled with a specific number or size of a part. At his work space, he had a row of various screwdrivers, a bit of smoothing paper, a bottle of oil and a focused light of a brightness to illuminate a rock star concert. Step 1, step 2, step 3. He closed the housing, raised and lowered the jammed lever easily and gave me a smile I translated as, “All fixed now.”
Back out front, the sales lady declined pay. I gave my silent helper a tip anyway. You know the third story. A machine won’t work. A older man appears with a ball pein hammer, raps smartly, and gears move again. The charge is expensive, not for the action, but for knowing exactly where to hit. I had sat at home for almost two months, recognizing the problem, yet having no idea how to solve it. The labor required was specific and its worth to me was beyond what I offered as recompense. Paul gave the world a basis for our foundation of theology and his pay for the work of his mind and heart was a secondary expertise: the tents he made to support his life.
The laborer is worth his hire. 1 Timothy 5:18
Let Me Tell Ya 