In the Eaton Hall mechanical room, there are two boilers. A hot water heater. A couple of air handlers. All kinds of electrical panels—some dead, some living.
There are pumps, pipes, conduits where phone and communication lines merge and disperse.
We even have a tunnel.
A crawl space that connects the Eaton Hall mechanical room to a small mechanical room in the basement of the Preschool.
Maybe, the youth should forget about selling pumpkins in the Fall. Consideration should be given to transitioning to a haunted bowels of the basement tour at Trinity during Halloween.
Who knows Chip and Flip could make cameo appearances as the sump pump mudmumblers or the boiler buzzards with a guaranteed admission discount slashed from $39.95 to $19.95.
Mechanical rooms in this old church building make me weary.
Financial disaster, in the form of a piece of equipment failing is always lurking in a mechanical room. Its the law of the darkness— where deep inside a pump a worn coupler shreds, fails. The pump squawks and shrieks in its mechanized death until the power is cut.
For months, we’ve been carefully monitoring two sump pumps in a well deep in the concrete floor. These pumps perform a critical function—they remove intruding ground water.
On Tuesday, a skilled technician who is familiar with cantankerous sump pumps came back to install a new switch for a supposedly faulty one.
In preparing for this installation, the technician discovered a loose screw. This screw was impacting the proper operation of that pump.
The technician simply tightened down the screw. Following this reconnection, he adjusted a float mechanism, and turned back on the electricity. In a matter of seconds, the pump was engaged and working properly.
When the technician reported his findings, I was relieved to hear this good news, and yet, I wondered why can’t the complications of daily living be so simple?
How different this world might be if it simply came down to finding and tightening a loose screw.
James Taylor is a gifted songwriter, singer, and musician.
He is also a survivor.
At some point in his career, Mr. Taylor had to tighten the screws of his lifestyle in order to make it to another day.
In the third stanza of his song “Fire and Rain,” Mr. Taylor wrote:
“Won’t you look down upon me, Jesus?
You’ve got to help me make a stand.
You’ve just got to see me through another day.
My body’s aching and my time is at hand,
And I won’t make it any other way.”
In this chaotic world, at this very moment, there is a human being who is hoping that Jesus is looking down upon them. That person no matter his/her circumstances needs help in making a stand.
What does it take to be seen through another day when no other options seem possible?
What are the chances that the right person with the right screwdriver will arrive and tighten down the loose screw for the person in need?
Might that screw tightener be you, me, we, us?
The other day, I stumbled upon this line of scripture: “Let me alone, for my days are a breath.”
Those words came from Job chapter 7 verse 16.
“For my days are a breath” reminds me of how quick time moves.
For that person who needs a screw tightened his/her time “is at hand.”
How will I respond if it is up to me to help that person to “make a stand?”
Making a stand is a “breath.”
So is tightening a screw.
might be baloney 