Frost (the Poet), a Nagging Refrigerator Door, and Rumors of a Pulpit
I'm haunted by a refrigerator door, and it's not even ours. Hopefully before this night is over, I will have laid the ghost to rest; I don't look forward to continue dragging it around with me any longer.
As I said, it's not even our refrigerator door. Paz, one of the members of our church, sold her house and moved to another apartment closer to the center of Caniço, a town about halfway between Funchal and the airport, a move necessitated in large part because her husband left her and Sara, their 9-yr. old daughter. While at the "new" apartment one day, I went to get something out of the refrigerator and noticed that the door opens "backwards", that is, it was purchased new and set into the corner of the kitchen at the left end of the cabinets, and no one bothered to switch the hinges so that the door would open against the wall. Very few refrigerators are sold here that you can't reverse the hinges on. (The same thing happened when we finished our new kitchen. The new place for the refrigerator meant the doors opened backwards. After several weeks, I finally had enough and one night I spent an hour and reversed the whole setup. Actually I did it after Abbie had gone to bed, so the next morning she nearly tore the ligaments in her hand when she tried to pull the door open from the side where the hinges were newly installed.)
What has Frost got to do with it?
In his poem, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening", the final stanza says, "I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." You see, I promised Paz I would fix the door for her. That was a long time before Christmas, and for the two or three times that might have been an opportunity to go over and do the job, there was something that hindered and she said it was no problem. "Do it later."
Two months after I said I would change the hinges, they remain unchanged; how many more miles will I have to go before I sleep? OK, I haven't lost any sleep over this, but the fact that I have not fulfilled a promise nags me. I've been willing; she is the one who couldn't work in the time to let me do the job. It's not my fault, but there will be one less "to-do" item on my conscience.
The Bible says we're to bear one another's burdens; I guess in a way I'm carrying a refrigerator door. We've been invited to Paz's to have supper tonight and she said I could work on the door afterwards. We'll see. I hope so. Like Frost wrote, I have promises to keep, and although most are more eternal and crucial than the position of those hinges on that particular refrigerator in Caniço, Madeira, I cannot help but feel responsible for being faithful in the little things, also.
This feeling is all the more acute because the young man who offered to build the pulpit for our new building has already on at least four occasions set a specific time and place to deliver it, and I have rescheduled my calendar and waited each time. Each time no show. No telephone call to let me know. The next time we meet, a different excuse and apology. He insists the pulpit is built; I wonder if that's just a line, and he continually fails appointments because he's too embarrassed to confess the truth. I would have built it myself, I but held off when he offered to do it. Back in November, when he started coming to the church, he made a profession of faith. We pray to God that he did truly accept the Lord as Savior, but he will have to learn that as followers of Jesus we must be people of our word. Even hinges on a refrigerator door can become a heavy burden.
P.S. -- Jan. 29 -- Mission accomplished; hinges reversed; promise kept.
As I said, it's not even our refrigerator door. Paz, one of the members of our church, sold her house and moved to another apartment closer to the center of Caniço, a town about halfway between Funchal and the airport, a move necessitated in large part because her husband left her and Sara, their 9-yr. old daughter. While at the "new" apartment one day, I went to get something out of the refrigerator and noticed that the door opens "backwards", that is, it was purchased new and set into the corner of the kitchen at the left end of the cabinets, and no one bothered to switch the hinges so that the door would open against the wall. Very few refrigerators are sold here that you can't reverse the hinges on. (The same thing happened when we finished our new kitchen. The new place for the refrigerator meant the doors opened backwards. After several weeks, I finally had enough and one night I spent an hour and reversed the whole setup. Actually I did it after Abbie had gone to bed, so the next morning she nearly tore the ligaments in her hand when she tried to pull the door open from the side where the hinges were newly installed.)
What has Frost got to do with it?
In his poem, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening", the final stanza says, "I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." You see, I promised Paz I would fix the door for her. That was a long time before Christmas, and for the two or three times that might have been an opportunity to go over and do the job, there was something that hindered and she said it was no problem. "Do it later."
Two months after I said I would change the hinges, they remain unchanged; how many more miles will I have to go before I sleep? OK, I haven't lost any sleep over this, but the fact that I have not fulfilled a promise nags me. I've been willing; she is the one who couldn't work in the time to let me do the job. It's not my fault, but there will be one less "to-do" item on my conscience.
The Bible says we're to bear one another's burdens; I guess in a way I'm carrying a refrigerator door. We've been invited to Paz's to have supper tonight and she said I could work on the door afterwards. We'll see. I hope so. Like Frost wrote, I have promises to keep, and although most are more eternal and crucial than the position of those hinges on that particular refrigerator in Caniço, Madeira, I cannot help but feel responsible for being faithful in the little things, also.
This feeling is all the more acute because the young man who offered to build the pulpit for our new building has already on at least four occasions set a specific time and place to deliver it, and I have rescheduled my calendar and waited each time. Each time no show. No telephone call to let me know. The next time we meet, a different excuse and apology. He insists the pulpit is built; I wonder if that's just a line, and he continually fails appointments because he's too embarrassed to confess the truth. I would have built it myself, I but held off when he offered to do it. Back in November, when he started coming to the church, he made a profession of faith. We pray to God that he did truly accept the Lord as Savior, but he will have to learn that as followers of Jesus we must be people of our word. Even hinges on a refrigerator door can become a heavy burden.
P.S. -- Jan. 29 -- Mission accomplished; hinges reversed; promise kept.
posted by EP | 7:18 PM | Permalink
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