I awoke this morning with swollen, inflamed, and painful hands and fingers, and I knew exactly why.
Yesterday, I spent the better part of the day working at our rent house in Bellville. One of my tasks was the removal of a tree stump in the front yard. Our renter who is leaving had hit the thing a couple of times with her lawn mower, the second time bending the crankshaft. (For those non-mechanical types, that basically means it's cheaper to get a new mower than have the thing repaired.)
Now, I didn't technically need to remove the stump. It was pretty low to the ground in the first place, and my renter wasn't exactly a lawn mowing expert. In fact, she had been mowing the lawn on the mower's lowest setting. That's a recipe for disaster no matter which way you cut it, and the results were predictable.
However, since I require my tenants to maintain the yard and keep it mowed or else face a fine, I thought it proper for me to make things as easy as possible--including removing obstacles which could cause further damage to my tenants' equipment.
We are currently under a burn ban, so there was no option to burn the stump out. I had to tackle it the old fashioned way--with a grubbin' hoe. As I attacked the stump yesterday, I knew I would be in trouble. The stump was very similar to ceder. If you know anything about ceder wood, you know it doesn't rot. Luckily, this stump was pretty small.
Yet, after repeated blows, I knew my hands would suffer. I could literally feel the vibrations going through my palms and the joints of my fingers. I knew I would have a couple of days of pain and inflammation. I also knew it would be for little or no reward. No one in the future would even know about that stump or thank me for taking it out. But, I knew it would improve the property. I knew it would prevent further damage of lawn equipment, even if it wasn't my own. Is that payoff enough?
So many times in life, we attack problems and bear pain. Sometimes we see direct results and people thank us for our efforts. However, in just as many cases, we attack problems and suffer pain for very little reward. We make diligent efforts physically, emotionally, and spiritually, and many times we end up with permanent scars for what we have done. And no one seems to care. So why keep it up? Why keep trying? Why seek to solve problems for others when they won't even bother to wonder or care about or even thank you for trying to make things better?
For me, it's a principle I live by. I want this world to be better than when I left it. I want the things I own and use to be better because of my passing by. It is a deeply held desire of mine to build and make improvements. It's much easier to destroy--to tear down--to leave scars. It's more difficult to build. It takes more time. It takes more effort. It takes more planning. It requires more of you. Including pain.
The other day, I blogged about an encounter with a young woman who was suffering because of the pain of losing her father pre-maturely. Several days later, I still think about that encounter because I realize the pain that I now have after having encountered her. No, I don't bear her pain. That is her own, but I have an emotional and spiritual wound because I long for her to experience the grace, mercy, and soothing balm of Christ's healing. I did my best to present her with it the other day, but I have little knowledge of what impact it had. I don't know if it made a difference at all. I don't know if she will ever have her pain soothed and her anger eased. And my heart breaks for her pain--as it does for those who hunger needlessly, who thirst needlessly, who through no fault of their own experience pain, abuse, and degradation.
When you desire to make things better, you will suffer some pain. Especially if you are willing to work for it. My hands will return to normal, as will my heart, in time. But, it will only be temporary. I'll have to put them to work again before too long, and we'll see if a difference can be made.
I live in hope that it will.
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