This morning, lovely rays of sunlight poked through the windows of my bedroom and softly roused me out of a peaceful slumber. Smiling, I thanked the Lord for the day to come. And then I heard it.
Incessant pounding intermixed with what sounded like a Native American loudly practicing chants, perhaps ones to chase away evil spirits. I waited to see if the man who desires to be a performer at the Grand Old Opry was going to chime in, but he must not have arrived yet. However, the man who whoops and hollers and then releases a schizophrenic laugh has unmistakably begun his shift.
I hung my head as I let the drapes close. Another day filled with non-stop pounding and singing that shouldn’t even be practiced in a shower. You see, a new house is being built next to ours.
Nerves fraying before I even get to the kitchen for morning coffee, I reviewed my options. I can’t leave the house; I work at home. I could open a window and tell the men to be quiet, but somehow, I think that would encourage the men to practice more diligently. I could send my husband over and have him tell the men to save the whoops and high notes for their own houses, but he’s out-of-town. And the truth is, he wouldn’t do it even if he was home.
I swallowed some warmed-up coffee as I came up with the best option. It should have been my first. “God,” I prayed, “Thank you that the men have this job. I know they have to use hammers, but could they sing more quietly today so I can concentrate on my work and not be frazzled?”
I climbed the stairs to my office and as I turned on my computer to begin writing, the Lord began to answer my prayer. Of course, the pounding is still there, and I’m glad for it because it means the men are earning a living for their families. But the war whoops and hollering and high notes from an untrained voice are quieter. Why didn’t I pray yesterday?
“May the Lord of peace give you His peace at all times. The Lord be with you all.” 2 Thessalonians 3:16.
TO GOD BE THE GLORY
Cynthia Howerter © 2012Read More