Brick Work

My dad was an Irish bricklayer. His father and grandfather before him had been bricklayers, too. It’s a tough job lifting bricks all day, many times bent from the waist for hours, and usually in the hot sun.  

But when the project was done my dad could stand back with the crew and admire the beautiful brick building that would stand firm for over a hundred years.

Laying brick isn’t for wimps but being the bricklayer’s slave, a Hod Carrier, is even worse.  The Hod Carrier has one of the hardest jobs in the world. Lugging piles of bricks without breaking them, mixing mortar and cleaning up the site, the Hod Carriers are the concierges of the construction world and the scum of the earth at the same time. They fetch ANYTHING the King Bricklayer requests and bricklayers LOVE to put the Hod Carriers through their paces. Often practical jokes are played on the poor unsuspecting youths who, at first, want nothing more than to please their boss. The job is like a never-ending fraternity Hell Week… at least until a new guy comes along.  If these lowly men are tough and survive the torment, they could request to learn the bricklaying trade themselves and move up a notch in the food chain.

My dad's lifestyle reflected the tough, hard drinking, foul-mouthed Irish bricklayer stereotype. Sharp as a tack and with a wit about him, my dad, the Shark, could count cards, remain stone-faced and wipe the poker table with his opponents.  He was a tenacious scrapper because he had to be. It was a matter of survival. That’s the way it was.

As a child he was orphaned and homeless during the great depression. He wandered the streets by himself at age eight looking for the usual things…food and a place to sleep.  He became a tiny businessman retrieving outdated bags of potato chips from the dumpster and selling them on the street. He once threw a rock through a store window just so he could get arrested and spend time in a warm bed.  About this time he was taken in to an orphanage but he hated it so much that he eventually ran away. He'd rather be on the streets.

One day my dad came across a gentleman working in his garden and stood there for a while watching. (He was probably conspiring how he could steal some food.) When the Man looked up and saw this filthy kid staring at him, he was not repulsed, but instead, was filled with sympathy. The Man was able to look past the surface grime and into heart of that ragamuffin child. I’m not sure of all the details, but soon afterward, the Man requested legal guardianship and my dad was invited to stay.

Dad was made to go to school again. In fact he was pushed to complete 2 grades during the first year. He also had to choose which church he wanted to attend….and he HAD to attend somewhere.  Then, of course, there were the chores; yard work, kitchen duty and babysitting the bratty niece. The Man was mild mannered. He spoke kindly, but firmly. It was the first time my dad felt complete. He had a roof over his head, plenty of food to eat and a home where there was understanding, guidance and discipline. He was loved. He swore he would never be homeless or go hungry again.

Then the day came when the courts released my dad from guardianship. With no job prospects and being intensely independent, the next step was only logical. Forgery.

Actually, it was rather common place during the war for underage boys to forge the birth date on their birth certificate to join the military, and the desperate recruiters turned a blind eye. Therefore, at age 14 my dad enlisted in the Navy and fought alongside full grown men on naval battleships for 2 years and six months. By the time he was 18 and released from the military, working as a Hod Carrier seemed rather tame.  

It's all in the perspective.

When I think about how that Man loved my father with such great compassion and commitment, I see a picture of what our Lord is like. Christ sees us hiding behind the bushes, hungry, and with mud on our face. He knows our clothes are in shambles and our shoes are two sizes too big. We are orphaned and foul-mouthed. Yet, without judgment in his eyes and with a kindhearted reach, Christ invites us to his home. He gently pulls us out of our pile of broken bricks and sets us up on the foundation that will last.  As we stand back and observe the Work through His eyes, we see with a different perspective.

Ephesians 2:19

You're no longer wandering exiles. This kingdom of faith is now your home country. You're no longer strangers or outsiders. You belong here, with as much right to the name Christian as anyone. God is building a home….Now he's using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. (The Message)

The Plan

My dad had been a schemer. A planner. A people reader. He had to be to stay ahead of the game and to put food on the table. I don't think he ever indulged himself by dreaming that one day he could be white collar or a business owner. He knew he was just a plain old working stiff. Nope, he just needed enough of a plan to survive. 

In 1945 Dad was released from the Navy and had already planned his next step. He went back to his hometown and connected with old friends. Soon he had a decent paying job as a hod carrier, just as he had hoped. A couple of years after that, he worked his way into the bricklaying trade. It was hard and dirty work but the money was good. After years of lugging brick and mortar around and building walls of concrete blocks, my dad decided he should take the next logical step and learn how to be an estimator. There wasn’t a school to go to for learning the finer points of estimating jobs, so he sought out knowledgeable men and began networking with them. A few months into learning the basics of estimating and convincing someone to give him experience, an out of state construction company hired him. Dad moved his family of four to the new location with anticipation and he was not disappointed.  At this Company, he received much needed estimating experience and was mentored by a clever businessman and, soon to be, good friend. Dad's plan seemed to be working.

For a number of years finances were coming along nicely, for a change. Dad had been estimating and supervising the jobs and developing a good reputation in the community. He was a self-taught, self-made man and he finally had a little corner of the world he could call his own. He took great pride in the house he had, and the opportunities offered to him. He was at a comfortable place.

Back during the Great Depression, he remembered, there was no comfortable place for him. He did, however, have a time of refuge. At one point he had formed a particularly strong bond with a group of nuns who had cared for him and showed great compassion. After that, my Dad had always considered himself to be Catholic.  He never forgot their kindness to him and was always grateful. But, he never went to church. In contrast, he always encouraged me to attend church with the neighbors. I'm sure, though, it was to get me and my brother out of the house on Sunday mornings. I was a bubbly and talkative kid and loved going to church. It was a great social connection and I had a nice group of friends. As I became a teenager, church began to mean more to me. I became very excited about the Lord and constantly invited Dad to attend church. However, he always scoffed at the prospect and made lighthearted jokes. Finally, somehow, God got my dad's attention. Maybe it was my incessant chatter. I don't know. But Dad began to scoff a little less and reply "maybe" to my invitations. I think he secretly began to consider that possibly his own plan had a flaw and that he didn't have to do this all by himself. That maybe God did have a better plan. The day my dad gave his life to the Lord put me in shock…my hope had become a reality and I was speechless.

From that moment of initial faith my dad learned to love the Lord. He was NOT a perfect man. He was just a Christian Man struggling like everyone else, learning to trust less in himself and more in Christ. Then the day came when the Company had chosen to downsize the business and three-month notices were given. My dad was going to lose his job. I'm sure terror struck his heart at first and his stomach was in knots. He had come so far from being the homeless imp to being at the top in his field. As scared as he was, he knew it was time to put a new plan into action. As a natural born businessman, he felt he should strike out on his own, and start his own business. But, it was risky. A financial failure at this point could be devastating to him and his family. Construction equipment did not come cheap and he didn't know how to run the business side of things. But, he did what he did best…he buckled down. He did his homework, borrowed some money, did a little negotiating and most importantly, trusted God and His Plan. Dad's business was born and it even thrived.

As his business prospered, so did my Dad. He gave time and money generously to causes, and to the church. He hosted Bible studies with other businessmen and his reputation expanded. Many people were touched by Dad's testimony of God's great grace and he was known as a good man. My dad remained humble at heart and he knew his success was not of his own doing. His blessings came from trusting God’s Grace Plan and not from his own feeble scrappy schemes.

Yes, he was just a working stiff, but He had a great Plan. Dad chose to thrive, not just survive. Don’t you just love it when a Plan comes together?

Jeremiah 29:11

I alone know the plans I have for you, plans to bring you prosperity and not disaster, plans to bring about the future you hope for…  (Good News Translation)

The Tall Man

It was just another hot humid day around 1935 when the tall thin man was on his knees turning soil in the flowerbed. He raised his gloved hand to his head and wiped his brow with his wrist. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move in the bushes. Curious, he leaned his head forward and looked closer. Expecting to see a bunny or stray kitten, he was surprised to see a boy.

The Boy, around nine years old, was dirty with a scowl on his face. There was uncertainty, distrust, fear, self preservation and a little hope, all rolled into one muddy face. The Tall Man saw all of these emotions and spoke softly to the Boy. He reached out his hand and offered the Boy a carrot harvested from the vegetable garden nearby. "Hungry?" he asked. Without any hesitation the Boy grabbed the carrot, quickly brushed off a large clump of dirt and ate. The Boy looked up and asked "got any more?"

The two began to chat. They sat in the garden for a bit, and then moved to the lawn. Then they went inside, sat at the table and snacked while the Boy unraveled his story.  Tall Man heard about how the Boy's out-of-work father deserted the family in the early 1930s, and that his Mom was in jail for reasons unknown. This left 5 already neglected children home alone. The older kids knew how to take care of themselves, but the Boy was the youngest of the clan and ran the streets wild. At some point officials corralled the children and awarded them to the local orphanage. The Boy had already heard “Oliver Twist” type horror stories about the place and planned on not sticking around. Sure enough, he split the first chance he got. Right over the fence. To him the street life was safer than the alternative.

The timeline and details were sketchy but eventually the Boy’s story ended where he was found, standing in the Tall Man’s bushes. The Tall Man had a nice home and seemed to have survived most of the Great Depression’s devastating effects. He wasn't wealthy, but had enough to help others. He was a compassionate, giving man and quickly gained the Boy's confidence. Soon, the Tall Man became his temporary legal guardian and a good friend.

During the time the Boy lived with the Tall Man, he learned there was more to life than stubbornly scheming and scrapping to get his way. He had to become a part of the family and learn to cooperate with others. He had to participate by helping out and doing chores, a discipline he grew to like because it made him feel useful. However, there was one chore he wasn’t really fond of. That was babysitting the ‘bratty’ niece. She was 6 years younger than him but knew her power. She insisted they play house, have tea parties and dress the dolls. To a twelve year old boy, that was just about as agonizing as it gets.  Arrrgggg. It was a tough assignment, but fortunately, she only visited occasionally.

For over four years, the Tall Man parented the Boy before he aged out of the guardianship and was released. Again, the Boy faced being on his own. However, Tall Man had trained him well. For the next twenty five years the Boy continued to grow in character and led a rather normal life sprinkled with the usual struggles. He joined the Navy and fought in World War II. Then he became a bricklayer, married, had children, and was divorced. The Boy, who was now my Dad, was very devoted to his family. Since childhood, he promised himself that he would never leave his children or let them go hungry. He would not be like his father.

One day while feeling a little nostalgic, Dad decided to visit his home town and drop in to see Tall Man.  He grew excited, maybe even a little nervous, in anticipation of reconnecting with the man that changed his life. As he walked up to the porch, Tall Man swung open the door, greeted Dad with a great big smile and welcomed him home.

And what a homecoming it was that Thanksgiving Day in 1967. Tall Man’s whole family was there and much to Dad’s surprise, even the Niece. He hadn’t thought of that pesky bucked tooth brat in over 20 years but he quickly discovered a lot had changed. The Niece had turned out to be an attractive confident brunette. It wasn’t long before love began to bloom and they realized they both wanted to play house. After a few months of long distance dating, Dad married the Niece, making her my Step-Mom, and Tall Man became my beloved, Uncle Edward.

 
I Peter 5:8-11

...So keep a firm grip on the faith. The suffering won't last forever. It won't be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good. He gets the last word; yes, he does.

Don't Be a Dummy

Before video games and DVD players…way back in the old days…my brother and I used to put on our own puppet shows and presentations for entertainment.  We would clear out a section of the room and create a mini stage out of blankets, cushions and chairs. We’d prepare a detailed script and took turns being the director. However, no matter what we planned usually ended up as ad-libbed comedy.  We also had a favorite record…a vinyl 45…that we lip-synced to. We rehearsed our routines to “perfection” for hours just because we had so much fun.

Another one of my favorite pastimes was my ventriloquist dummy, Jerry Mahoney. I’d practice and practice trying to talk without moving my lips. I experimented with using visual distraction, while speaking words that were harder to disguise. I learned as much as any 9 year old could about moving the dummy’s mouth and head in human pretense. Of course, to my family, my performances were force fed but they were delighted when I was invited to perform a routine at school. I’m sure all I did that day was tell a few non memorable riddles and jokes, but people were listening. I liked that. Puppets have a way of commanding attention.  And, I think, I liked being in control. If Jerry Mahoney had had a choice, I’m sure he would have preferred speaking on his own behalf. BUT Jerry DIDN’T have a choice. He had to ‘say’ what I told him to. He was an extension of ME. I controlled his every move. His head, his mouth, his impotent dangly arms. He was my PUPPET.

First off, God does NOT want us to be His puppet. He wants us to love Him freely as a child would and choose Him to be our Lord. And even though we might be in total agreement with God’s great plan of redemption, it’s human nature for us to want to be in control. We strive to the point of ulcers to be in control of our destiny, our freedoms, our rights and the remote. Plan your work and work your plan! We want to know that what we plan will turn out exactly as intended. We have even learned to factor in the unpredictable. We use cell phones, email and Facebook for immediate communication. We buy insurance and open savings accounts for financial emergencies. We make lists, carry day planners and install apps that will make our planning easier and more efficient…but yet, are we really in control. Or, are we just making back up plans and causing tension headaches.

There is a freedom for us when someone else is in control. When we were children, we believed in the unseen, we laughed at ourselves, and we didn’t make plans passed what cartoon we wanted to watch after dinner.  I believe it’s time we learn to relax as children do and let go of the script. It’s time we spread our hands in surrender and let Life’s Master Director set the stage. Let Him be concerned about the props, and the characters. It’s time we listen for His cues and enjoy the wild ride of an ad-libbed comedy. Just because it’s fun.

Biblical Reference: Matthew 18:2-4

Jesus called a little child to come to him. He stood the child in front of the followers. Then he said, “The truth is, you must change your thinking and become like little children....The greatest person in God’s kingdom is the one who makes himself humble like this child.

Un-Tangled

When I was a kid, about 8 or so, I had a marionette.  He was a slender figure in a tuxedo and most often I pretended he was a concert pianist. I would dance him around on the table or floor and then I’d have him play some air piano. After pretending for a while, like most 8 year olds, I tossed him aside. When I returned to resume imaginary concerts, somehow he had become a jumbled mess. His leg might be stuck up around his head or an arm permanently tied behind his back. His head cocked to one side. 

Time and time again I went to my dad with my mess. He’d be in his chair watching TV when I’d approach. He’d look at me with a sigh and ask the usual rhetorical questions. “How in the world did this happen? or ” What the heck?”  Sometimes the untangle process was easy and other times he sent me away so I wouldn’t be there staring at him. Knowing me, I was probably giving him suggestions, too.

He never failed. No matter how long it took, my dad always came through and untangled my strings. He was also my go-to guy for getting my necklaces out of knots. Whether the problem was my own fault or my little brother’s, he was always there and was good at what he did without assigning blame.

Got strings? Are they tangled? I know a Go-to Guy who specializes in untangling our life messes. And He is really good at what he does.

2 Corinthians 5:17  ¹⁷ When anyone is in Christ, it is a whole new world. The old things are gone; suddenly, everything is new!