I waited for the workers’ pounding, but none came. I grew up with a piano in our house, and when I married, we purchased an electric piano (Casio CT-625). With the original box long ago recycled, I had dust-proofed the keyboard by surrounding it with pillows and covering the bulky result with plastic. My daughter begged me to unpack it today. She practiced “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.” It sounded refreshing in June.
I watched them spray a termite treatment; unsure about the healthy aspects of this code requirement; very sure that termites damage homes. Workers poured the foundations in front and back; then swept and smoothed the concrete. Huge wheel tracks crisscrossed our lawn. One worker sat in a wheelbarrow for lunch.
With a 100 degree heat index outside, empty water bottles engulfed the work site. Frito and Leila acted like they wanted to walk on the wet concrete. I didn’t allow them their fun—I’m partial to leaf imprints on sidewalks and patios. As I swam laps, the warm pool water felt like melted butter.
After watching the movie Miracle yesterday, my thoughts turned spiritual on the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team’s learning style. With Jesus as my coach, and me as one of the team—a disciple—I commit to the unknown—the only “known” is eternal life. Practice, prepare, and develop character—Coach Jesus drawing out the best in me; no provoking or forcing. Readers, what do you think? Consider a question from the movie: “Who do you play for?”