I have an 8X8 space in my basement that I use for my bench sander, drill press, bandsaw, scroll saw and dremel. It also houses my art supplies, drawing desk and craft bench. The addition of numerous boxes of scraps of hardwood, a shopvac for dust collection, small hand tools, fasteners and hardware and a 300 pound man leaves so little space my projects have to be no bigger than a shoebox.

To make matters worse, I am not great at putting things away and staying organized. I used to pretend that I had a system, but I have come to accept that my natural tendencies are inclined towards chaos and that if things are important to me I have to invest the time and effort.

So I decided to organize things and make my space more useable. This involves three things that I find really difficult.
1) I was going to have to sort things that up until now have been sorted by the “will it stay in that heap or this pile” system
2) I was going to have to decide which things were going to be kept closest because they will be used more often, and which things will get placed in less accessable places
3) I am going to have to give some things up

Right now, my little space is so upside down that there is hardly room to move. I know that things will get better, but right now things looks so much worse than they were before I started cleaning. It seems wrong, but cleaning up makes such a mess. I know that I wasn’t happy with the way things were, but in the middle of this craziness, the old mess actually seems good. Now there is nothing to enjoy. There are piles of must keep stuff, piles of I would like to keep stuff, piles of I wonder if I should keep stuff and a tiny pile of stuff to throw out. I looked around my space and started to feel panicked that there wasn’t going to be enough room for me to do what I wanted to do with my stuff. I was moaning about how I don’t have enough space to keep all of “MY” stuff when I realized that very little of this was really “My” stuff. Borrowed tools, donated wood and everything else scrounged and reclaimed at little or no cost. Almost everything in my shop was paid for by someone else, yet I still enjoy all the benefits of ownership.

Maybe the shop cleanup needed to start with a little perspective clean up on my part. I wonder if I have been storing gifts in a heap or leaving them uncared for in piles. Maybe I was allowing self concern to take a place of importance when it really needed to be pushed aside for things that I should use more frequently like generousity and gratitude. I know there are things I am going to have to give up and I was going to have to start with something a little more precious than a couple of board feet of lumber. You see I have all the benefits of ownership of my life even though it was paid for by someone else. That is something that I have to remember in the messiness of life. Sometimes perspective cleanup makes a big mess of things. Sometimes perspective clean up makes us miss the old mess, even though we weren’t happy with the way things were. Regardless of how much worse the mess may get, as long as we are working, we are one step closer to things getting better.

I have been unable to work for over a year now. I was a workaholic and I wanted to change the world, every day, in everyway. Things were a mess. This time off work has forced me into some pretty serious perspective clean up. I can’t do the things i used to do physically, but in the mess that followed not being able to work so many hours, I found a cleaned up marriage. In the sorting that came with deciding what I could and couldn’t do, I prioritized more time with the my kids. In the giving up the selfworth I pinned on my value as an employee, I found my real value as a man. I am not even close to being content with the way things are in my life, It sometimes seems like I am trading one mess for another. But I feel confident that as long as I keep working, no matter how bad things seem to get I will always be one step closer to thing being better.

I was trying to hack through the edge of the molded plastic packaging and the closest tool was the kids scissors. I was squeezing the scissors so hard that the packaging squirted from between the blades leaving the fold of skin between my thumb and index finger in it’s place. The scissors won. I went upstairs and while I was trying to descretely mend myself, my darling wife asked me what happened. I stopped dead in my tracks.

My first reaction was to deny that it was the kiddie scissors. I don’t know why, but I wanted to pretend the wound was the result of something much more manly. I am not sure why doing dumb things with power tools seems more manly than doing dumb things with kiddie toys, but it does. I avoided the temptation and ‘fessed up to being so abusive with a tool that I turned something engineered for safety into a weapon. My wife didn’t laugh. Well she didn’t laugh right away. It was funny in a bunch of way. It was humorous to recount the attack of the kiddie scissors, but it was also amusing to consider my initial reaction.

I don’t think it is just me though. I once worked with a guy who was a wheeler dealer. I always had some kind of deal on the go. He confided in me once that he had had 3 different cars reposessed. He sat somberly for a second contemplating this, then he smiled and said, but ya know what…they were all cadillacs! I am not sure how defaulting on a huge loan is better than defaulting on a small one, but I think that there is something about the man’s brain that lets us justify losing as long as we could have won BIG. I think that is one of life’s little hazards. Some times we measure the costs of our actions against the potential rewards as a way of soothing the fact that we aren’t happy with the way things work out. Another friend ignored all else and worked so hard that he was a millionaire before he had left his 30’s. He can now afford great divorce lawyers. The payoff didn’t change the fact that he was hurt so badly when his wife left.

I think for me, the fear and apprehesion of misusing the power tool has so many real dangers for me that I am very cautious. I wish I could keep the same kind of respect for the other tools in my life. I wish I could understand more easily the dangers of misusing trust, respect, loyalty and integrity and the invisible wounds that accompany thier abuse. As I found out, even the most harmless tool can sting if you push it past it’s limits. The problem is that the safety limits for the important things are in life’s owner’s manual and I have gotten quite used to looking at pictures instead of reading for myself.

The old addage that we should recheck our measuring to save time and material cutting really seemed to speak to me about wanting to be more than good enough. Not in a boastful or bragging way, but in a way that takes full advantage of the resources available to me… including talent. My friend will think nothing of running a 10 dollar piece of wood through the tablesaw, because he knows that he has invested enough time and effort in his craft to feel confident that this wood won’t be wasted. On the other hand I have been known to cut until it fits instead of measuring and my belt sander fixes many a mistake. I am so uncertain of how anything will turn out that I refuse to use anything but scrap (that way when I mess up, I didn’t really de-value the lumber). The master sees 100 dollars of wood going through the table saw as a first step in a beautiful table, In my hands that would be the first step in the worlds most expensive marshmallow roast.

I am content to be a dabbler at this point of my life. There are some benefits to being a dabbler, I can certainly better appreciate a master craftsman now and I have become very creative with using small and akwardly cut pieces of wood. I also know that I am bound to try increasingly difficult projects that will need me to invest in more care and effort to make the most of the resources avaiable to me. While Lumber might grow on trees, the money to buy it doesn’t.

I kind of feel that way about life sometimes, there are areas of my life where I feel called to make the extra effort, to think twice, because being a dabbler just isn’t good enough. Most of those areas are things that no one on earth will likely ever notice, but I know and that is reason enough to change it. I am finding myself less comfortable burying a talent because I am afraid to “de-value” the lumber. Because my friend isn’t willing to let his work be “good enough”, the end result is the craftsmanship he brings to his creations. I think it is the desire to be better that makes him better. If I have the courage to bring the same conviction to my life’s dabbling I can take the example of the Master, and develop my talents, time and treasure into something that I probably don’t have the courage to even dream about right now. I don’t doubt that I will have my share of expensive bon fires along the way, but I can see the price paid by the Master and realize that life is too precious to worry about the cost of the life-lumber. You see, I beleive that in the Master’s hands I have complete confidence that my precious life-lumber will not be wasted and comitting to being more than “good enough” is the first step in allowing the creation something beautiful in my life.

I had this idea for an Noah’s Ark Book Shelf that is at is’t base just a plain rectangular book shelf with a few extras that (I think) make it much more fun. I tried my hand at sketchup and have come to the conclusion that I would rather stick pointy things in my eyes than spend anymore time trying to make it do the things I want it to do. In all likelyhood, the stubborn side of me will revisit it in the future and learn how to better use what I will admitt seems to be a valuable tool. I will just need better safety glasses. I am going to have to ask you to imagine the finished project because I couldn’t get to happen without risking personal injury.

In The photo below you can see the shell. I imagine it made out of softwood to keep it light and allow for the bulk needed on the side rails to accomodate the bow and stern finials It would be 12 inches deep, 3 feet long and 30 inches high. The shelves sit in slots, (what do you call those things?) in the sides. The roof would be finished with faux scalloped edge shingles.

http://i257.photobucket.com/albums/hh230/robneves/NoahsArkBookShelf2JPG.jpg

What I couldn’t incorporate into the design was the shelf supports. The shelf supports would be directly under the top floor cabin and would feature animal sillouttes peeking out. The silloutes would be scroll sawed out of Baltic Birch and stained in a dark mahogany stain to highlight the contours of the animal shapes

http://i257.photobucket.com/albums/hh230/robneves/arkbookshelfanimaldividers.jpg

I imagined 2 elephants on the bottom, two zebras in the middle, two lions on the top and two giraffes incorporated into the cabin sides.

Just a note of caution in picking out the sillouttes that have sharp or pointy edges (rhinos, moose, deer) exposed past the face of the book shelf is a visit to the emergency room waiting to happen. In my version the elephant would have tusks that didn’t protrude as far.

I have tried embedding the pics right into the blog, but they seem to be too large and my computer too slow to edit them in photo bucket. Looks like a huge piece of humble pie for me today… LOL
This is a crude drawing of what I imagine the finished project looking like. I look forward to your feedback.

http://i257.photobucket.com/albums/hh230/robneves/NoahsArkBookShelf3.jpg

God Bless
rob

I read this bumper sticker a while ago and it really stuck with me. I initially laughed at the phrase “My Boss is a Jewish Carpenter”, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought it was a great point to reflect on. On Good Friday I am forced to consider the humanity of my Jesus. I mean he was definitely Jewish and he was some sort of trades person (Carpenter is the most popular translation of that word but some people believe he was likely a stone mason). Regardless of which vocation occupied his hours, he spent less than 10% of his life in formal ministry and 90% of his time on earth… working a blue collar job.

I like to look at these unwritten stories in the bible and see what other parts of the bible tell us about the gaps that God has left us. So imagine for a second the year 29 A.D. John the Baptist has stumbled out of the desert. He has abandoned all his earthly belongings (which would have included a sizeable inheritance and a prestigeous position in the church/political leadership) and lived only to serve God. He spent every waking hour preaching the Good News, Baptizing and calling for repentance and true belief. At exactly the same time, not far away, Jesus was building a table for the Goldblooms. Who was doing God’s work?

If we are going to use earthly standards to evaluate thier lives, it would seem that John was doing the work of God, and Jesus seemed to be just putting in time. But if we believe that Jesus is God, then everything He did was the work of God and if we believe that He was perfect, then we believe that it was the perfect will of God that He do that work. So is it possible that our time in the workshop is meant to be part of our ministry on earth and that if we approach it as Jesus did, it could be part of God’s perfect will for our lives? (please no angry letters from spouses who already feel like workshop widows, We are all called to honour our covenents above all other comittments)

I am not suggesting that your only labour should be making crosses to be mailed to orphanages, what I am wondering is how God filled 90% of His time in the workshop and still minister to the world. I know at age 33 He loved the world enough to die for us, so I don’t think at age 27 or 28 He was disinterested in what was happening around Him. If He still loved the world around Him that much, what did that ministry look like while he held a day job?

Honestly, I don’t know. I wasn’t there. But on the day we remember his physical suffering, I am also reminded that He probably hit his thumb with a hammer a few times too. Somehow just doing the work He was supposed to do was exactly what God wanted from Him. The work set out for Him to do was done fully, done with purpose and done with conviction. That work included an appointment with the executioner, but it probably also included tables and door frames. All of this work was the work of God. All of it was part of His ministry to the world.

In my life, I am constantly surprised how often I get chances to share my faith in areas of my life that have little to do with my day job. Things like discovering woodworking led me to lumberjocks. I don’t want to betray trust, but as a result of my previous blogs, so many of you have emailed me with your stories and shared what God is doing in your lives. It appears that making wooden toys is the work of God. Judging from some of your stories, cabinet making is the work of God. Pumping gas is the work of God, driving a dump truck is the work of God and accounting is the work of God.

I want to encourage all of us to see our jobs as work ministries. As chances to do the work of God. What is the work of God? Mother Teresa of Calcutta suggests that the work of God is simply “to love and be loved”. If we have the courage to do that with the same completeness, purpose and conviction as our Lord, it does not matter what title the earth attaches to our jobs, we can be sure that the heavenly title is “good and faithful servant, in whom I am well pleased”.

John 6:28 ” Then they asked him, “What must we do to do the work God requires?” Jesus answered, “The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent.”

God Bless
rob

It reminded me of a neighbour I had a while ago. This colourful character maintained an collection of stuff in his backyard that could easily have hidden the lost city of Atlantis. One day I was eyeing a heap of wood pieces that I imagined using for a bonfire. I asked him what he was going to do with that “scrap wood”.

He rubbed his chin and asked me ” do you have a use for it?”
I jumped on it, thinking he was going to let me have it “I sure do!” I said
“well then, it isn’t scrap it. Is it?” e
I guess he “let me have it”, but I ended up buying the wood.

If you have a use for it, it isn’t scrap. My friend finds cabinets and furniture in a pile of lumber. I find trucks and dragons in my friend’s scrap pile. My kids find sculptures in my scrap pile and I am sure there is someone somewhere that could use the stuff that we can’t imagine using. I don’t think we can ever be truly aware of how others are going to value the gifts in our posession. It is becoming clearer to me that the scraps we toss because they are worthless to us might be so valuable that they seem like a gift to someone with that specific need. So maybe there isn’t such a thing as scrap. Maybe there are just gifts that haven’t been shared yet. I can think of other areas of my life that might benefit from my scrap philosophy. The effort it takes for a smile, kind word or thoughtful gesture might not add up to much in my life at that moment, but they might mean the world to someone else. I think I am going to be more concious of keeping my scrap box empty, because if I can find others that can use the abundance in my life, then there isn’t really any scrap… Is there?

God Bless
rob

one benefit that i was not expecting with my new interest in toy making is that the kids are huge fans of being involved in the projects. \i knew that they woud want to do thier own thing.. dad can you make me a …, but they have a real interest in the projects i do for my own pleasure as well. it amazes me how the most unexpected things can teach me things about parenting. i guess we never really get to the end of the parenting tool quest either. just when you think you have every thing you need to be the parent you want to be, something happens that reminds you that there is still work to do. i have attached a piece of a blog called “daddy loves you” that i thought some of you might like, you can read the whole thing on www.gentletruth.blogspot.com

My daughter is about 12 years old. While I can’t be certain how hard she will crash into the hormone wall we know as puberty (the pre-pubescent boy in me still wants to giggle when I say that word), my work with teenagers leads me to believe that any day now she will wake up and then we won’t get along for about a decade. I want you to understand that I love my kids more than I love my next breathe, but there is something about the teenaged years that test even the best father/daughter relationships. I wonder if these challenges are based on the fact that some dads just don’t feel comfortable talking about emotions. Lots of dads see themselves as the person who fixes things in the family. Dads can fix problems, dads can fix jump shots, dads can fix lawn mowers, but emotions are these weird things that not only defy fixing, they ask Dads to use tools that may not be comfortable handling. If forced to choose between using a power tool that could easily cut off an arm or using a listening technique that may lead to crying, I know lots of dads that could get used to the nickname Stumpy.

I have a friend who is a cabinet maker. I was helping him move some equipment one day, and he suggested I could borrow his scroll saw to cut out some shapes for a Christmas project that my kids wanted to create. I resisted at first, but my friend was insistant. He eventually brought it over to my place and I started using it. At first I discovered that I could use his scroll saw to cut out paper shapes we needed for sunday school. I would draw the pattern on a pad of multi-coloured paper and cut the whole block all out at once. In five minutes, I could save several hours of sissor cutting…It was beautiful.

My friend wasn’t content with that though, he eventually brought over some scrap wood, and I eventually started making little things for the kids. The kids would ask me “Daddy can you make….” and we would spend some time together and try to make what ever. It was all trial and error…emphasis on the error. It was amazing how much faith they had in my non-existant talent. They didn’t hesitat to ask and sincerely expected that we could make what ever it was they were desiring. They had more faith in me than I did. It was so reassuing that they could look at any mess-up and say “my daddy can fix that…” . I would be prepared to just toss it in the trash if it were just up to me, but they never wavered in the idea that something good was going to come out of that mistake. I wish I could look at some of the mess-ups in my life and have the same faith that my Daddy can fix that. I have to admitt that there are lots of things and (while I am ashamed to admitt) relationships that my tendency is to just trash because I don’t have the same kind of faith that even the biggest mess up can have something good come out of it. It is my daily struggle to look at suffering and believe that my Daddy can fix that.

So my generous friend loaned me a 500 dollar machine, my generous kids taught me that the mess ups are where we discover the real capacity of the creator and you were generous enough to share this time with me.

I hope to write more soon… but for now I am working on a 24×8x10 1930 model aa stake truck for the 2×4 competition.