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  He became a tiny businessman retrieving outdated bags of potato chips from the dumpster and selling them on the street.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)