It’s spring!

It’s spring and the first full day of spring was greeted with brilliant sun and bright blue skys with scattered puffy kinds of clouds! It also blew in 20 mph wind and temperatures in the 20s. My ride to work this morning was very brisk, and having the wind at my well-padded back for most of the ride I made very good time. I must say, it really didn’t feel all that cold after all.

Its a splendid morning.

This is “spring break week” for my office. We are allowed to dress casually, and we even get tomorrow off. So today is my Friday, and Friday’s are usually play-days at my office. Not that we aren’t still productive, but we take a rather laid-back approach to today’s chores, and try not to let anything get us up tight.

Yesterday was sunny and warm, up near the 60’s, with a mild breeze if any. I took off around 5:45 yesterday afternoon (I am normally off by 5, but usually stay late in the evening to work ahead or play on the office computer. However, during spring break week, the building is shutdown at 6pm) and wanted to enjoy the remains of the nice day.

I’ve been bitching to myself for the past couple of weeks about a broken pad on my bike backpack. The pack has two pivoting “lumbar” pads at the base, to which the main waist belt attaches. A couple of weeks ago I or somebody must have stepped on one as it sat on the floor in my office, because its been broke off ever since.

Anyway, I decided that – while there wasn’t enough light left to get home and change clothes before going on an extended ride – I did have time enough to swing by the local hardware store and fix my bag.

My office is on one of the largest ridges in the city. Coasting down the hill on the backroad to my office on my way to the hardware store was a kickbutt moment. That’s all I’ve got to say about that.

This is a small community hardware store in the “TrueValue” style. I entered and threaded my way back to the bulk hardware bins. I knew that I was going to need some pliers and a hex wrench to work with the bolt, which had apparently broken through the plastic framework which holds the bag in shape.

I was still taking my jacket and books out of the bag when a clerk found me and asked if I needed help. In my mind, I had visualized hunting down the tools from various racks in the store and performing all the work myself very discreetly, so I thought to give the clerk a challenging answer which would cause him to flee. “What I’m needing is a hex wrench, and a nut driver of the right size… and a fender washer.”

“Oh, well, lets see about that….” the clerk hummed as he came over to investigate. He immediately set about finding the right size hex wrench, and left me to play with that while fetching his pliers. He was amiable, and continued a subtle running banter that was playful in an engineer sort of way. If I didn’t know better (and I don’t) I’d say he was delighted to have such a practical project to help fix.

We ran into several minor road blocks – we needed a longer bolt to accomodate the washer; the bolt had a new hex size, he was out of that size hex wrench – all of which were met with good-spirited consternation and a chuckle. At one point, he dumped a bin of hex wrenches onto the floor. “Oh gee. Its been that kind of day,” he said as he stooped to scoop them back up. I went for the few that scattered outside his reach. “Actually, its been the whole week. A couple of weeks at that.”

“Thats no fun,” I replied in good natured commiseration.

“Yeah, I’m going through a divorce, and all that hassle….”, he continued as he refilled the bin.

I was off-guard. “Oh man, thats no good at all,” was my best reply. I didn’t know yet if he was yanking my chain, just making passing comment, or if he needed to talk.

He needed to let a bit of it out, I guess. He proceeded to tell me – still light hearted and friendly – about how his wife of 20-some years had suddenly burned through some $22,000 of his retirement savings. And now, she’s up and fled without leaving any contact information. “My daughter came to me and tried to warn me. ‘There’s something wierd about mom’. You’re mom’s always a little wierd, I told her. She said ‘No, this is different. There’s definately something wrong.'”

He said they had started out as the best of friends and all that. She kept the books for the family – in fact, he used to brag to his friends at how well she maintained the budget. “I’m not a terrribly rich man, but she made away with a good deal of money.”

“She sure did. And if in fact you were a rich man, then the $22,000 would be even less of a big deal!” I cited.

“Exactly!” he replied. He told me other little snippits here and there, all the while pressing on the pad while I fit the bolt, or some other handy task.

He really went out of his way to help me, and he was both cheerful and respectful while doing it. But at the same time, he felt somehow that I was someone he could share with, someone he could trust to listen.

I thanked him again as he moved on to help some other customers, paid for my washer, and left. Outside, I was confounded. I was proud of what had just happened. It was validation for the decision I had recently made to end a hypocracy in my life. I had regained God’s trust, and He was in turn sharing that trust with others.

At the same time, I was left feeling – unsatisfied. Was this all there was to be? I felt as if I should do something more, something to help him. But what? His heart hurts. I thought of bringing him a gift certificate to movies or dinner, some gift of appreciation for his help with my pack, and for his honesty and trust. But thats not really what he needs.

As I rode off, I started getting an answer. I’ll share with him the most valuable thing I have. I’ll come back and invite him to my church for Easter. I’ll share my faith with him.