Recalibration

A garage is an unlikely place for a Sunday School lesson, but, long ago, I agreed to take them wherever and whenever they come. I was being given a tour of my friend’s three-car garage which he and his son had turned into a NASCAR pit stop. In the three bays were an MG he’s been restoring since before he got married, a BMW his son has transformed into a racecar for a local track, and a pristine restored Toyota SUV. With hydraulic lift and every tool you could imagine neatly displayed against the wall, I felt like even I could fix a car! Hearing about the work they’d done to each car, and learning the purpose of particular tools, I was struck by the time and patience required for such work, and how it seems to be a matter of constant recalibration. Adjust this, tighten that, and then see how she runs. Walking back to the house, I couldn’t help but see how much our lives are like what goes on in that garage.

Looking up at my bookshelves this morning, I see an entire section of books designed to help a person grow. Whether it’s to learn how to manage money, life-dreams, diet, relationships or some other aspect of one’s life, these books are designed to help one recalibrate his or her life. (Too often I have purchased the book and not done the recalibration, but that’s another Brushstroke.) It’s a wonderful gift to be able to change and adjust our lives, but such work takes much time and patience, and, like the three cars, is never done.

The reason for my visit to see my friend, however, was because he had just lost his father. Regardless of the fact that his father had lived a full life, and his son seemed to be handling his death as well as could be hoped for, I thought about the way life sometimes forces us to recalibrate. Through no desire on our part, things happen to us that demand we adjust and change the way we see and live our lives. Much more complicated than buying a book, or pulling a tool from the wall, the recalibrations needed to adjust to life without a father or mother, spouse, child, or beloved friend are immense. So are the ones required when going through a divorce, loss of a job, betrayal of a friend, or sudden financial turmoil. Such potholes will cause the strongest wheels to need alignment.  Business as usual will not do, our automatic pilot for living must be turned off, and taking the wheel and flying through such dark clouds is both disconcerting and frightening.

I suppose such moments are what caused me to first consider there might be a power greater than myself, someone who sees beyond my limited vision and holds me in the palm of his hand, no matter what I’m going through. It is my deepest and most sincere hope, for me and all my friends who struggle, and I must constantly recalibrate my faith to make sure my thoughts and actions are in keeping with the hope I hold deep in my heart. I’m embarrassed by how often recalibration is needed, but I celebrate it’s possible at all.

Like the work in the garage, such work requires not only time and patience, but also the right tools and the willingness and discipline to take them from the wall and put them to use.