The Peak of Inspiration

I’ve known for quite a while that I wanted to write something with this title, and truth be told, most of this was written months ago.  I’ve felt a little helpless as I’ve thought about trying to describe what I felt, and witnessed, for the first 40 years of my life.  I know what I want to say, just not how to say it.  It’s a little like trying to describe a rainbow to a blind man.  It’s all very clear and beautiful to me, but how do you paint that bow across the back of his eyelids in a way that he can understand, if only in a very small way.  But I’ll try.  That’s better than not.  Because there is a principal here that the world is losing.

This is about a man.  A man who understood the importance of a task done right.  He understood that peace of mind comes from having things secured.  He had learned that to sleep at night, you took care of things during the day.  To leave for the weekend meant diligence through the week.  This is about a man that didn’t take second chances.  He didn’t take them because he didn’t need them.  This man spent the time while he was there, so he didn’t have to go back.   This is also about a man whose last name I carry.

Some people would label it OCD.  There have been times when I would have taken their side.  It could be that in some ways it was.  He was human too.  There were instances when we all got a little impatient as he checked and double-checked and triple-checked the door locks, the oil level, the u-joints, the radiator cap.  You name it, if he touched it, he touched it again to make sure.  I can still see him, as I sat waiting in the cab of that 4640, as he greased the disc.  It took a while, making sure every bearing had been greased and greased properly.  Seems like to me he could have skipped just one, one time.  But I really doubt he did.  And when that piece of equipment went to the field, the oil level perfect, tire pressure right, discs turning smoothly on well lubricated bearings, he could know that he had done what he could. 

The Bible tells us that if you are faithful in the little things, you’ll be faithful in the big things too.  This man was a living, breathing example that verse is true.  I cannot think of any area of his life where he was careless, something he rushed through, or didn’t give his full attention to and made sure he had done his best.  His life was in order.  Everything from the wrenches in his shop to the bills on his desk.  His spiritual and financial.   He made sure that his children were all loved equally, and that they knew that.   He made sure the hoses were drained in the winter, ready for instant use.  I could have walked into this man’s shop blindfolded and found the tool I needed.  Because it was in its place.  Every time. 

I could give examples until nightfall, but an abundance of words probably wouldn’t make the difference.  He taught us that, too.  Go look up the word “diligent” or search for the opposite of “careless” and you may find a reference to my dad. 

Maybe this is the most important paragraph… I listened to my father pray many, many times.  There was a phrase in a good majority of his prayers that will stay with me until I die.  It’s carved into my memory like the faces on Mt. Rushmore.  He would say “help us to make sure steps for that Home in Heaven”. 

And he did.  We had some good talks those last two weeks.  And like we expected, we discovered that everything was in order.  Bills were paid.  The way was clear.  No unfinished business.  No reason to doubt or second guess.  Sure steps.  He knew.  In the end, that’s what matters. 

We have one life.  One chance.  There is one judgement.  Now is your time. 

Make sure you can rest. In Peace.