Who Was That Guy Anyway?
John Fischer

Last weekend I was the beneficiary of a surprise act of kindness.

My wife had invited a carpenter she met to provide us with an estimate on some work required on our tired, old 1942 cottage. He stopped by on Saturday and after determining the extended time to complete the project, he declined the offer to bid. Nevertheless, he stayed and spent some time with Marti and I, introducing us to his extraordinary self — a man of worth and someone we felt we had known for a long time

In short order, we found we had a mutual appreciation and respect for C. S. Lewis and his writings, that we shared a similar desire to contribute within the mainstream of our culture, and that we expressed similar concerns that our culture was abandoning the essential foundation of its core values.

This oversized Hobbit-like man spoke as an old-school craftsman, where you “don’t charge extra for quality” and the timeframe of any job is “however long it takes to get it right.” (Do people like this exist?)

While bidding us good-bye, he passed by a project of my own remodeling two rooms built into our garage. When he saw the inferior tools I was using, it pained him, visibly. So much so that he offered to bring his truck by the next day and put his table saw to work on the angle cuts I was trying to coax out of the $7.99 plastic miter box and hand saw I bought at Home Depot. While sincere in his effort to cultivate a new relationship, I didn’t place a lot of stock in his actually showing up.

By golly, he did — right when he said he would — and until late into the night, he patiently helped me cut and install molding. By helping I mean he didn’t just do it for me, he showed me how to do it. I must say I am especially pleased with the windowsill - when it was cut and installed, it was a thing of beauty for which I will always be popping the buttons off my coat.

This burly, pony-tailed man with a heart as big as he was, spoke with great pride about his firefighting grandfather who lost his life “just doing his job.” And the servant’s heart lives on.

I couldn’t help being reminded of another Carpenter I know, who desires a relationship with me, teaches through experience, gives from His heart, and broods over my attempts to craft my life’s work — yet never asks for anything in return, and always makes a difference in everything I do.

PDL