My husband wore gray sweat pants every day back in our college days. Or so it seemed. There were the occasional khaki pants and button-downs for a class presentation, but overall, he preferred a nice pair of gray sweats. He drove an old beat-up white jeep with a black replacement door on the driver’s side. The metal hinges were cracking, so he would lift on the door before it would open. I had to go downtown to find him when his jeep stalled out. He would use jumper cables from my car to his to get the jeep going again. Once in a while would be ok, but it was a weekly occurrence. He spent more time under the hood than driving. You could hear his jeep coming long before seeing it. It makes me smile thinking back on those “lean” years. I am sure onlookers made all kinds of quick judgments. It is easy to do, and honestly, I probably would have done the same if I had not known him.
Years later, he settled in his career and staking out the American dream when it was his sister’s turn to attend college. On a Saturday, she arrived to get settled into her new place. She would be staying in the same apartment complex Chuck had stayed. He met her at the complex to help her get moved in. When they arrived at her apartment, the furnishings were anything but acceptable. The bed was on its last leg, and the other furniture pieces looked like they had been through the wringer a time or two as well.
Without a word, Chuck turned and walked straight to the management office. The manager attempted to make excuses for why her apartment was furnished with leftover pieces and how the options were minimal. Chuck later told me,
“People don’t give the offensive lineman the credit he deserves. He has to get from a three-point stance to a vertical position in under a second. He is the chubby kid in peewee football, the fat kid in junior high- overlooked, misread, and misjudged; Until he reaches the pros. He becomes the second-highest-paid player on the field at the professional level. Your biggest investment is your quarterback. The lineman’s job is to protect him at all cost.” While everyone else is looking at the quarterback, the lineman is getting paid.”
Chuck found himself in a three-point stance, ready to hit vertical in under a second while looking at the apartment complex manager. He steadily leaned over the desk and assertively said to the manager, “Don’t let these sweat pants fool you. I happen to know you have a warehouse full of furniture. By the end of the day, there had better be new furnishings and a new mattress delivered to her apartment, or I will be back.” There was a brand-new mattress and furniture in the apartment post haste.
Everyone needs a lineman in their corner.
Our front porch sits high off the ground. It has six white columns that accent the red brick porch stairs that descend into the front yard. An underground spring waters the creek that flows through the front yard and off to the side of our driveway. It’s picturesque to say the least.
One afternoon I was sitting in the rocking chair watching Charlotte enjoy the sunshine. Suddenly, I heard the sound of struggle coming from inside one of the columns. I knew a bird had fallen inside the hollow wrapped post. It was trapped with no way of escape.
I examined the column, but there was nothing I could do. The posts were taller than I was, even from a chair. The only way to remove the column was to lift the roof. Somehow, I just knew Chuck wasn’t going to go for that. The bird was sure to die.
I went inside, so I didn’t have to hear the bird struggling. At supper that evening, I told chuck about the trapped bird. Methodically, he got up from the table and disappeared outside. In a few minutes, he appeared with a rope in his hand. We all followed him out to the front porch; Eva was hot on his heels, and Charlotte and I were close behind. We watched him slip the rope down to the bottom of the column. Both of us looked at each other shaking our heads.
We could hear the bird flapping around, but what were the odds that it would climb the rope?
Chuck gave it time to calm down, and then he slowly began to pull the rope up. The bird clung to the rope and rode his way to victory to our unbelieving eyes!
Payment came in the form of cheer all around! Daddy had saved the bird!
We have since traded in the old jeep for new vehicles; Apartment living for a home in the country. The busy street sounds are long gone, but how sweet is the song of the birds each day. More often than not, like an old pair of gloves, Chuck will appear in his gray sweats and prefer the old truck rather than a newer model. I like it that way. It fits him.
Most of our three-point stances will go unnoticed, but they are irreplaceable to those counting on us.
Welcome Home
“A fool takes no pleasure in understanding but only in expressing his opinion.” Proverbs 18:12
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