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It was a typical Indiana spring day. Outside the house, it was
raining. Inside the house, it was raining. Water slowly dripped
from the ceiling, reminding me that when you replace your own
roof, there's nobody to get mad at when it leaks.
I should be a pretty good roofer, I spent two summers roofing
when I was in college. Of course that was in West Texas, where
rainfall averaged 16.5 ounces a year (prior to last year's
drought). Could it be that I was a really bad roofer all along
and just never had my work tested?
I opened the closet, took out my wife's green raincoat and my
Indiana Jones hat, and headed outside. I stood under the edge of
the garage, looking sternly up at the spot where the leak was,
hoping that if I stared at it long enough and hard enough it
would stop. It didn't.
Out came the ladder, and up I went. I began squirting sticky
black roofing cement into the roof valley, pressing it into place
with my finger. As I worked, the rain continued to fall.
Eventually, a perfect rain channel formed down the back of my
coat, funneling all the water that hit my back directly down into
the back of my shorts.
And then it happened. As I stood there in the rain, I heard
the bells at the nearby retirement home begin to chime. And as
the notes played, the words to a great old hymn came into my
mind: "When upon life's billows you are tempest tossed ..."
I began to smile as the song continued: "When you are
discouraged, thinking all is lost."
"Here it comes," I thought. The bells sang, "Count your many
blessings, name them one by one. And it will surprise you what
the Lord has done."
I stood on the roof, soaking wet, my hands covered with tar,
grinning and singing, "Count your blessings, name them one by
one, count your many blessings see what God has done."
It was 75 degrees outside instead of 35. I had some extra roof
cement in the garage. The water could have leaked one foot away,
onto the computer. I did actually have an hour of unscheduled
time available (softball practice was rained out). All in all,
as roof leaks go, it was a pretty painless one. And the bells
reminded me of that.
You may read this and say, "Well, Mark's just one of those
saccharine-sweet smilers, a guy who always sees the glass as
'half-full'." Wrong.
My glass is completely full, and runs over every single day
with blessings. And while there are days that I'm too pig-headed
or self-centered to see it, most days I am amazed at what I have.
And even though I don't know you, my guess is that your days are
mostly pretty good too.
"Count your blessings, name them one by one. And it will
surprise you what the Lord has done."
art by Henry Peeters
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