Carpentry

I tackled what felt like an almost-impossible job this morning: I patched a gouged spot (possibly construction damage?) in our brand spankin’ new oak floor.

Last night I discovered this little 1”x1/4” hollow spot while we were caulking the LAST (finally) window in the dining room. After hearing my little groan of surprise and disappointment over the hole, Fritz simply said, “Well, we’ve got lots of scrap pieces – you can patch it if you want.”

Yeah. Sure. We’re talking hardwood. What do GIRLS know about carpentry? All I know about patching, from my bakery days, is how to repair holes in CAKES with big globs of frosting.

But this morning I took a 2” square block of leftover finished wood to the basement and chopped away at it with a hatchet. No kidding; I’m talking real pioneer, little-house-on-the-prairie stuff. Then I proceeded to whittle it with a kitchen knife, cut it with kitchen scissors, and then sand it smooth (and I sanded the tips of my fingers as well). The thing looked like a skinny sliver by the time I was done, but it fit pretty well. A little Gorilla glue and a brick to weight it for a while, and presto, the hole was filled.

The reason I tell this story is because at any stage of the process the wood could have easily splintered. It was so TINY and fragile. But as I began, I sensed the Holy Spirit encouraging me from within in a more tangible way than usual. I said out loud, “Lord, please help all my efforts to pay off! Make this work!” As the piece of wood got smaller and smaller, and the chance of breaking it became greater and greater, I felt certain it WOULD work, but only because of faith in Him. And it was reasonably successful; you can see the picture here yourself! Just call me The Carpenter Woman who belongs to the Carpenter from Nazareth.

By the way, while I’m on the subject of carpentry, here’s an excerpt from a 1955 Sunday School Manual (Christ’s Ideals for Living) by George Blair entitled “The Carpenter of Nazareth.” I’m currently identifying with this after finishing the floor project, and believe I’m just a little more mended and repaired myself as a result of trusting Him while fixing the floor.

In Nazareth, the narrow road,
That tires the feet and steals the breath,
Passes the place where once abode
The Carpenter of Nazareth.
And up and down the dusty way
The village folk would often wend;
And on the bench, beside Him, lay
Their broken things for Him to mend.
The maiden with the doll she broke,
The woman with the broken chair,
The man with broken plough, or yoke,
Said, "Can you mend it, Carpenter?"
And each received the thing he sought,
In yoke, or plough, or chair, or doll;
The broken thing which each had brought
Returned again a perfect whole.
So, up the hill the long years through,
With heavy step and wistful eye,
The burdened souls their way pursue,
Uttering each the plaintive cry:
"O Carpenter of Nazareth,
This heart, that's broken past repair,
This life, that's shattered nigh to death,
Oh, can You mend them, Carpenter?"
And by His kind and ready hand,
His own sweet life is woven through
Our broken lives, until they stand
A New Creation—"all things new."
"The shattered [substance] of [the] heart,
Desire, ambition, hope, and faith,
Mould Thou into the perfect part,
O, Carpenter of Nazareth!"