The weekend was jammed wall-to-wall with activities. Friday evening was devoted to serving meals with a ministry that feeds hungry folks under a downtown bridge. Early Saturday morning, we were to kick off a day-long garage sale designed to allow us to see our garage floor again. Saturday evening held an invitation to a community-wide event to support a beloved charity. And somewhere in there, I needed to study up for the lesson I was to teach to the 11th-12th grade class on Sunday morning.
Then, a Thursday night wind storm toppled one of the large, draught-stricken trees in our yard. Just great. I was not exactly counting on this looming, additional burden. I needed to get the issue resolved ASAP and I would have to go buy a chainsaw in order to do it.
But at some point Friday, word arrived that my wife’s friend’s father had seen our downed tree and was eager to help me take care of it. Saturday afternoon, like the cavalry coming over the hill, Mike pulled up in our driveway, chainsaw at his side. He went straight to work with an “Eat My Sawdust” approach to the task. I hustled to keep pace clearing the limbs as he trimmed. Before he left, our conversation around the tailgate of his truck uncovered the fact that Mike is a horse dad emeritus. His sweet daughter Amy, now grown and raising a family of her own, once was an accomplished dressage competitor. Mike was well steeped in both the joy of equestrian endeavors and some of the heartache. Isn’t that something.
I cannot thank Mike enough for his helping hand and his ready chainsaw. Some folks look at a downed tree and see an afternoon shot to heck, a whole lot of unanticipated work, and a twist of angst about the neighborhood bulk trash pick-up having concluded a week earlier. Folks like Mike look at a downed tree and see firewood.