Through a little trial last weekend, God taught us a valuable little lesson, one that we seem to have to learn and relearn: Love is more important than money.
It happened this way.
Jonathan was called about a job of replacing old wooden banisters with black iron ones up in the mountains in Frisco, near Breckenridge, where he had installed cabinets earlier this summer. On Wednesday, he took Sammy and Timmy along to start the job. He planned to hopefully finish by mid-afternoon on Friday, when I was supposed to meet him up there and we'd find a camp site in the mountains in the golden aspen for the weekend. The children were excited about spending Saturday at the Breckenridge Fun Park, with money they earned from puppies.
Here is a BEFORE picture of the job they did.
The boys were a big help to their dad. As you can see below, they have taken off the lower set of banisters and are taking down the upper level.
Meanwhile--we girls had packed hundreds of things for a camping weekend (and a router Jonathan had forgotten) and have traveled up a three and a half hour trip Friday. No, the job was not done yet that was supposed to have been done by midafternoon. The girls and I put together a taco salad for supper, and Jonathan worked until ten o'clock in the house. The rest of us bedded down in our travel trailer--no, not by golden aspen in the mountains, but in the driveway of the house where Jonathan was working.
I look at the aspen--far off in the distance on the mountainside. And I look up at the stars high above my head.
Do I remember something about making do before? And discovering the happiness afterward?
The next morning, Jonathan started work again about 7:30, hoping to finish in a couple hours. The children all hurried to help make breakfast, clean up the travel trailer, and pack sandwiches for our fun day at Breckenridge. We wanted to be there at 9:30 when it opened, to get the most for our money.
But the work in the house was still not done.
Time ticked away. The home owners left on bikes to volunteer at a festival about the time the children and I were ready to leave. It was very important to leave and get the most we could for our money, because it was going to cost quite a bit. The children had earned the money and the time for play. But...
Money.
Always about money?
Jonathan was struggling to finish up. We had stayed out of the house to keep out of the homeowners' hair. But now they were gone. Was life only about money?
Isn't life about loving as God has loved us?
Somebody grumped and somebody chided.
And somebody said, "Let's remember that life is not about money, but about love. " Jonathan hadn't meant for this to happen. He miscalculated his time and so many things went wrong or had to be added to the job. Would we blame or understand?
What could we do to help?
Well, we could vacuum up the sawdust all over the work area. And sweep up the sawdust all over the driveway. And gather up the plastic protecting furniture. And Sammy kept helping his dad put up the trim boards beneath the ballisters. And the trim board was 1/8 inch too long. Have to rip it off and take it out and shave it off with the saw.
Then the nail gun started shooting double instead of just one nail at a time.
Time kept ticking away. Dollars kept going to pot from our fee at the fun park--one hour, two hours lost from the day of fun and getting the most for our money.
But life is about loving.
It is about forgiving and understanding and helping our neighbor--especially when our neighbor is our husband or dad or someone in the family.
He deserved a day of fun, too, didn't he?
Finally, there was no way to finish the job and still get to the park much before noon. We would have to come back and finish later in the evening. Jonathan quickly patched in some tile grout to dry during the day--
and I discover Danny crying, coming back from the creek behind the house--with black mud up to the top of his sock!! I stare. He wails. My mouth is not exactly--well, the beautiful curve of a smile.
I just read in Ann Voskamp's blog that the most beautiful curve on a lady is a smile.
A beautiful thought.
A precious thought.
But I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about
black mud. We have just packed up and dressed up half decently--all shoed or sandaled and socked and jacketed. (It is not exactly easy to get nine people dressed decently from head to toe when you have been camping.) And now this!
I just read in Ann Voskamp's blog that the most beautiful curve on a lady is a smile.
A beautiful thought.
A precious thought.
But I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about
black mud. We have just packed up and dressed up half decently--all shoed or sandaled and socked and jacketed. (It is not exactly easy to get nine people dressed decently from head to toe when you have been camping.) And now this!
But life is about love.
Not about money. Not about clothes. Not about everything going the way we want.
I set Danny on the trailer step and reach through the black, slimy mud to find his shoe. I cannot even see the velcro. But I get that shoe off, don't look at the mud inside. Then comes down the sock. The black, muddy sock. Muddy to the tip top. Danny has stopped wailing as he discovers that he has survived the mud. His foot is still there. Minus the sock. Minus the shoe. We have one--just one--other pair of socks left for him. And a pair of sandals--a little too short.
We find the hose and hose off the shoe and sock. And hose off the grout mixer. And finally, finally,
we are ready to go to Breckenridge Fun Park. We won't get as many rides on the alpine slide. But a little more more treasure has just been laid up in heaven--by choosing to put love ahead of blame, and people ahead of money.
And there would be more lessons to learn later.
