The Peak of Inspiration

I like shops.  There are so many kinds.  No two are alike.  They all possess different personalities.  They all have different capacities and capabilities.  Each was built to address a need. 

When I place my finger on the map of my life and, starting at my present location, I trace backward through the years to the place where my carpenter days started, I find my finger hovering over a certain shop in northwestern Oklahoma.  This shop had a sign over the door, “Papa Bob’s Woodworking”.  I loved going in that shop.  

Papa Bob’s shop held such intrigue.  It fascinated me.  The power tools, the hand tools, the endless possibilities hidden in a slab of wood.  The sweet smell of fresh sawdust, the half-finished projects, the residue of wood glue, the beauty of a freshly varnished piece.  I loved it all. 

I am familiar with farm shops.  The smell of grease and oil and diesel fumes.  The scraps of iron and spare farm tires, the pallet of chemical in the back corner, the stained concrete from oil spills, the shelves with spare parts, gearboxes, bolt bins, everything that every farmer needs on any day of a summer week. 

I am fortunate to have my own shop.  It is a curious blend of the two types, a hybrid of sorts.  Woodworking tools for sure, not the best, and certainly a little different from the ones my grandpa used.  A few livestock supplies, some very basic automotive paraphernalia. 

There have been seasons when my work was of such that my shop sat empty and unused.  That saddened me somehow.  To have that place, that capacity to produce and create and supply and fix, and not use it, seems like a waste of something valuable and precious.

I think that shops have a need.  It is not difficult to understand.  It is simple and uncomplicated.  And that is this, to be used.  Shops are there for a reason, and that reason is not to sit empty and silent.  Shops want their lights on.  They love the sound of tools being used and the feel of the breeze through an open door.  Call me crazy, but I think shops need to feel needed. 

And, I think, shops are not unlike hearts.  Hearts have a need.  I think that need is overlooked and underappreciated many times, but it is a need nonetheless.  Hearts want to be used.  Hearts love projects.  They want to create and fix and help.  They want to be invested, to find a cause, to have a reason to exist. 

If you are like me, we don’t always want to invest them.  Sometimes I don’t want the work a project takes.  I fear the dust and dirt, the wear and tear, the stains and scars that these jobs inevitably will bring.  I shy away from the risk and the possibility of failure.  I close my doors, dim the lights and say “not me, not now, not this time”. 

The truth is, when used, your heart will show some signs.  You will accumulate some scars, the investments might cost a lot, the calluses and blisters will come.  But I can promise you this, your heart will love it. 

Please believe this.  Your heart is valuable.  You have tools, capacities, and capabilities that someone needs.  There are projects that need attention.  Investments that need investors.  Problems that need solutions.  You and your heart may just be a good fit.

Sadly, you may pick up some stains and scratches.  There may be a few projects that never seem to get finished.  Someone may learn to depend on you more than you would like. 

But there is good news too.  Positive things will happen.  Needs will be met.  Souls will be helped.  You can make a difference.  Not to everyone all the time, but to someone once in a while. 

Empty hearts are sad hearts.  So, open the doors, turn on the lights and get out the tools.  Invest in a cause.  Someone needs you and, believe it or not, you need them.  Your heart was built, equipped, and placed here in this time and for a reason.  Mine was too. Let’s join forces.  Together, maybe we can fix a few things. 

“and if everyone lit just one little candle what a bright world this would be.”