Garage Door Blues

        It’s Tuesday and I’m sitting at my desk in my library, typing on my laptop, with the door to our garage standing open in case the gentleman doing all the work needs my help.

       I finally broke down and called Overhead Door to fix the big double door on my side of the garage. Yesterday, even my secret personal magic couldn’t make the door go down, and by the time I was finished, it was hanging crooked and disconnected from the chain track. I was so much at a loss of ideas I resorted to the last thing I wanted to do … ask someone else for help.

       I waited around all morning at home knowing he might arrive at any time. While waiting I replaced the taillight assembly on Cyndi’s car so I can get it inspected for her. That was more of a project than I expected. It eventually required pulling loose the interior cover of the hatchback. This made me nervous. Pulling it loose was easy. Pulling things loose is almost always the easiest part. Putting it back so that it stays in place from now on even when your wife is driving on a bumpy road or loading treasures in Canton and she isn’t embarrassed when it all falls off is the hardest part.

       So far, I got everything back in place, no extraneous parts, and nothing has fallen off. Of course, I haven’t moved the car yet.

       When the Hector the garage door repairman drove up, the very first thing he noticed – I should say, the very first THINGS he noticed – were all my previous repairs to both doors. It didn’t take him long to understand the improvisatory nature of my work and, I have to say, to my regret, he wasn’t impressed with any of it. None of it.

       The first thing he did was replace all my work with correct pieces and attached them properly. I’m glad Cyndi wasn’t here to witness my disappointment, after the bragging I’ve done through the years showing her my ad hoc repairs and boasting about all the money I’d saved. Hector had them off the doors and new parts back on in only minutes.

       Of course, in my defense, he had an entire truck loaded with correct parts and correct screws and proper glue, not to mention the fact he knew what he was doing and had done all of it many times before. So, he definitely had the advantage over me. I should have invited him inside to work on a spreadsheet or two, or maybe type an essay, or how about this, play some jazz licks on my trombone. Who’d be the boss then, huh? Me, that’s who.

       Well, the thing is, I know that when Hector drives away both doors will work better, and Cyndi (and I) will be happier than ever. I expect our neighbors will be happier, too, since they won’t have to wait behind me in the alley while I try four or five times to lower the door.

       I keep waiting for the day to arrive when all my stuff stays together. I hate constant maintenance, fiddling, or adjusting. I want to put in the effort to make something I like and then know it will stay that way from now on. But instead, the lawn wants to be mowed again (that one, I’ve taken care of), the sprinkler heads want to pop off and blow water into the street, the air conditioner filters want to be changed again, the room wants to be painted again, the clothes want to be washed again, my bicycle tire needs air again … there is no end to it all.

       Sort of like me. I keep waiting for the day to arrive when I know the right thing to do every time, when I treat people the best and most loving way possible, when my calendar comes together and stays together week after week, when, all my joints settle into their present pains and don’t introduce new ones, when all writing is easy and all lessons a joy to learn and study and teach.

       I don’t know how old I have to live for all those dreams to come true, but I know my dad was eighty-eight when he died and none of those things were true for him. Apparently, constant maintenance is the way of the world. From now on.

       There is good news, however. As my friend David reminded me this morning over coffee, Philippians 1:6 says, “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (NIV). That means it isn’t all up to me. I don’t have to improvise and fake my way through life with wrong parts and marginal techniques. I have help from the maker of all things, and his desire is to finish his work in me.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32