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Rector’s Ramblings – October 17, 2024

It’s always frustrating when I think I should be able to fix something, but it turns out I can’t. Sometimes, it’s because something just can’t be repaired, and other times, it’s because I lack the skill to fix it. I’m usually game to try most things at least once, although there are some jobs I’m smart enough not to tackle in the first place. Other times, I think, “Sure, I can fix that!” If I try and fail, I’m usually no worse off than when I started. Usually. There was a memory on Facebook recently of the time I was helping the church do some demo in the Rectory in Maryland. When removing the subfloor to prepare for new tile, I pulled one particular nail out, only to see a geyser of water spray up into the room. The nail had been driven into a water pipe when the floor was laid. It never leaked…until I pulled it out. Then we had to shut off the water to repair the pipe.

A recent adventure was not so exciting, but it also deals with water, come to think of it. Like many, we bought a small above-ground pool during the pandemic when we weren’t supposed to go anywhere that first summer. It’s been nice to have it, even though we rarely use it. Equipment for above-ground pools isn’t usually as robust as in-ground pools, so I’ve already repaired hoses and valves and have swapped out the pump. The most recent issue was a bit of a surprise, though. Our filter sprung a leak. It didn’t leak around a fitting or an O-ring. Instead, the heavy plastic from which they formed the filter tank (about the size of a 5-gallon bucket) simply developed a small hole along the seam. 

I took everything apart and inspected it. I have a plastic welder, and I was pretty sure I had compatible plastic rods, so I cleaned everything up and welded the split. I put it all back together, and it worked! No more leak. For about 48 hours. The leak came back and pushed my plastic weld aside. Not one to give up, I eventually tried again and added flex seal tape to the interior. Surely, it would work between the tape (with all its hype) and the entire rod of plastic I welded into the seam. Nope. As soon as I had everything hooked up again: “Pssssshhhhhh!” Another stream of water. So, I cried, “Uncle!” and immediately ordered a new one from Amazon. 

I was annoyed. First, a piece of heavy plastic that isn’t exposed to the sun should last for more than four years, right? But also because I couldn’t fix it. It seemed like something I should be able to fix, and even though it may not be reparable for anyone at any skill level, it SEEMED like I should be able to fix it. Alas, it was not to be. That frustration is real, though, and I’ve felt it before. Frequently, actually. Just yesterday, I learned that an acquaintance lost his son unexpectedly last week. I don’t know what happened – his son is still a boy. I reached out with an email, and this is often the case in such situations. I was frustrated because I didn’t know what I could say to help make things better. He used to be a pastor, so in some ways, he knows there are no words and any attempt at condolence is appreciated, but still. Yes, I am well trained and know that presence and contact are much more important than any words in these situations, but my inclination – our inclination, is to do something that feels more overtly effective.

With cars, I have a pretty good average. I’ve never had to have a car towed because I began a repair I couldn’t finish – it’s been close a couple of times, but I’ve always figured it out. With home projects, the average is still good, but there are a few Hail Marys with colorful commentary along the way. With home goods, particularly electronics, repairs are rare; things just aren’t made to be fixed like they once were, but I’ve managed to repair my own computers and vacuum cleaners, among other things. With people, it’s even more varied. I don’t know how much “fixing” I’ve done, and fixing isn’t usually an option, yet the yearning is greater in relationships than it will ever be with any inanimate object.

Trying and failing to fix things is an excellent source of humility. And it’s a reminder that some things can’t be fixed. Not in a traditional sense. We can’t fix it when someone dies. We can’t exactly fix a broken heart. We can’t fix dementia. We can’t fix aging. Despite our yearnings, we must humbly accept that some things will be what they are. No matter how much we wish and pray, there is another outcome. In God’s time and God’s view, fixing isn’t even the proper arena for many things. God deals in healing, wholeness, renewal, and redemption, and not always on this side of heaven. God does this through Love. Love doesn’t fix things, per se, but Love can make room for growth, adaptation, and acceptance. It can and will eventually chart a course to healing, wholeness, renewal, and redemption. 

I don’t know that Love would have helped me with my pool filter housing. Maybe it would have helped not to think less of the designer or think in such colorful terms about how the unrepairable item annoyed me. And it may have allowed me to be kinder to myself instead of seeing my efforts as failures. Or maybe it would have made me grateful for the four years of continuous service I received from that infernal piece of plastic. It’s too late now. UPS will make it better when they drop off the new filter housing any day. But next time, I’ll try to pause for a moment and ask how Love could help.

 

Tom+

 

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of this world.  All things break, and all things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go, love intentionally, extravagantly, and unconditionally. The broken world waits for the love and light of Christ that is in you.  (from one of my favorite blessings)

 

Photo credits: water and tools via dreamstime.com subscription