That time we had a poodle, our sweet Bella, she ruined our front door. We couldn’t train her out of scratching at the door to be let into the house, and as a result the weather strip around the door was completely shredded. Lyndon, jack-of-all trades, fixed it once or twice, but eventually gave up and vowed he’d not fix it ever again.
He’s a man of his word.
Here’s the problem. The gap between the door and the door frame, tiny though it is, lets in the cold. And a few days ago, it got cold. Several degrees below zero celsius cold, and a strong wind to boot, and as high as I turn the dial on the thermostat, that creeping cold sneaks through the bad-poodle crack.
There’s a grown up boy sleeping on my couch these days. He’s between finishing one session of school and beginning the new thing, and in the meantime he’s sleeping on my couch and eating all the apples out of the fruit bowl. He’s handy with a hammer (do you need a hammer to fix a door?) and today he’s assigned the job of restoration.
Restoration. Fixing the gap so the cold air will stay out, and the inside will stay warm.
My heart could use a little of that, too.
It’s a small bit of wisdom, but there you go.