Mr. Fix It
"Honey, I think you need to look at the washer. I'm afraid it's not working again."
My parents got that washing machine when they were first married, and I think they may have even bought it used back then. It was avocado green. One day, my sister was watching "That 70's Show" when she yelled from the living room, "Hey! That's our washer on TV!"
Now this was not the first time that poor avocado washing machine broke. My mom used to complain about never getting new appliances because my dad could always fix them when they broke. That's why we used that avocado washer for twenty-five plus years.
So one evening, my dad went into the operating room (laundry room) to diagnose the aged washer. He pulled it out from the wall, crawled onto his belly, squeezed into the insides of the washer, and went to work with flashlight in hand and wrench in the other.
In practically no time at all, he walked into the kitchen with dirt on his shirt, grease on his arms, and a tiny black plastic part in his hand. "I found it!" he announced. How he knows all the nuts and bolts of a twenty-five year old washing machine, I don't know, but he found it. One tiny part, broken.
Squinting his eyes brows and turning the part over and over in his hand, he continued, "But this is a special part...I am not even sure if they make it anymore..." Considering that the washing machine was apparently from the 70's, I would have to agree.
After he left the kitchen to return to his work, my mom secretly rejoiced. "Yes! Maybe I will finally get a new washer!"
Within five minutes, my dad waltzed back into the kitchen, this time with two black plastic pieces in his hands. "Look!" he said with a huge smile on his face. "I have the part! I found it in my work desk in the garage!"
Our mouths dropped wide open with disbelief. "Where in the world did you get that?" my mom asked in a high-pitched squeak. "I have no idea," he replied, "but this will do the trick." He practically skipped back to the laundry room to put the long lost part in its rightful place.
"Well, no new washer for me!" We both burst into laughter.
My dad has always been Mr. fix-it around our house. He can take apart an engine and piece it back together again. He knows the ins and outs of all the kitchen appliances and has repaired them multiple times. When mom hit the curb with the weed-eater and destroyed it, he fixed it. Whenever we break anything - from a glass decoration to a toy to the VCR- we just put it on his desk and wait for him to put it back together again.
One Sunday morning before church, I backed out of the garage with the back door of my car open and bent it completely out of shape so that it would barely close. "Do you think daddy can fix it?" I innocently whimpered through my tears. "I don't know about this one, sweety..." my mom tried to sound hopeful but didn't do a very good job. When we got home, he surveyed the damage and went to work. Before we even finished cooking the eggs for our Sunday afternoon brunch, he was back in the kitchen calling us, "Come and look!" The door looked just like new. "How did you do that?!" We questioned in amazement. "Well, I took it off, bent it over my knee, and put it back on." Amazing.
My dad spends many of his free hours and weekends using those same talents to fix things for other people. I love to tag along and help him repair a sink after a leak, lay a new floor after a flood, or roof a house after a tornado.
Fixing things is not an obligation or a full-time job for my dad. (Although he might sometimes argue that because we break stuff so often!) He really enjoys fixing things for my family and for others. It is like a hobby, and he's really good at it.
I have another Father very much like my dad. Maybe my dad gets it from Him. After all, He did create my dad and give him unique gifts and abilities to express His own holy heart. Just like my daddy here on earth, my daddy in heaven is an excellent fixer-upper. No matter what breaks, he can always fix it. He has just the right parts tucked away in order to repair and restore whatever has been damaged or lost. Even when we think there is nothing that can be done, He has what we need. And when He is done, everything looks so brand new that you can't tell it was ever broken.
Fixing things is not an obligation for Him, nor is it a burden, but a joy. And He loves it when we tag along to watch him do what He does best: restore, repair, rebuild, renew, resurrect. He loves it when we bring our brokenness before Him and trust Him to fix it.
It is like his hobby, and He's really good at it.
My parents got that washing machine when they were first married, and I think they may have even bought it used back then. It was avocado green. One day, my sister was watching "That 70's Show" when she yelled from the living room, "Hey! That's our washer on TV!"
Now this was not the first time that poor avocado washing machine broke. My mom used to complain about never getting new appliances because my dad could always fix them when they broke. That's why we used that avocado washer for twenty-five plus years.
So one evening, my dad went into the operating room (laundry room) to diagnose the aged washer. He pulled it out from the wall, crawled onto his belly, squeezed into the insides of the washer, and went to work with flashlight in hand and wrench in the other.
In practically no time at all, he walked into the kitchen with dirt on his shirt, grease on his arms, and a tiny black plastic part in his hand. "I found it!" he announced. How he knows all the nuts and bolts of a twenty-five year old washing machine, I don't know, but he found it. One tiny part, broken.
Squinting his eyes brows and turning the part over and over in his hand, he continued, "But this is a special part...I am not even sure if they make it anymore..." Considering that the washing machine was apparently from the 70's, I would have to agree.
After he left the kitchen to return to his work, my mom secretly rejoiced. "Yes! Maybe I will finally get a new washer!"
Within five minutes, my dad waltzed back into the kitchen, this time with two black plastic pieces in his hands. "Look!" he said with a huge smile on his face. "I have the part! I found it in my work desk in the garage!"
Our mouths dropped wide open with disbelief. "Where in the world did you get that?" my mom asked in a high-pitched squeak. "I have no idea," he replied, "but this will do the trick." He practically skipped back to the laundry room to put the long lost part in its rightful place.
"Well, no new washer for me!" We both burst into laughter.
My dad has always been Mr. fix-it around our house. He can take apart an engine and piece it back together again. He knows the ins and outs of all the kitchen appliances and has repaired them multiple times. When mom hit the curb with the weed-eater and destroyed it, he fixed it. Whenever we break anything - from a glass decoration to a toy to the VCR- we just put it on his desk and wait for him to put it back together again.
One Sunday morning before church, I backed out of the garage with the back door of my car open and bent it completely out of shape so that it would barely close. "Do you think daddy can fix it?" I innocently whimpered through my tears. "I don't know about this one, sweety..." my mom tried to sound hopeful but didn't do a very good job. When we got home, he surveyed the damage and went to work. Before we even finished cooking the eggs for our Sunday afternoon brunch, he was back in the kitchen calling us, "Come and look!" The door looked just like new. "How did you do that?!" We questioned in amazement. "Well, I took it off, bent it over my knee, and put it back on." Amazing.
My dad spends many of his free hours and weekends using those same talents to fix things for other people. I love to tag along and help him repair a sink after a leak, lay a new floor after a flood, or roof a house after a tornado.
Fixing things is not an obligation or a full-time job for my dad. (Although he might sometimes argue that because we break stuff so often!) He really enjoys fixing things for my family and for others. It is like a hobby, and he's really good at it.
I have another Father very much like my dad. Maybe my dad gets it from Him. After all, He did create my dad and give him unique gifts and abilities to express His own holy heart. Just like my daddy here on earth, my daddy in heaven is an excellent fixer-upper. No matter what breaks, he can always fix it. He has just the right parts tucked away in order to repair and restore whatever has been damaged or lost. Even when we think there is nothing that can be done, He has what we need. And when He is done, everything looks so brand new that you can't tell it was ever broken.
Fixing things is not an obligation for Him, nor is it a burden, but a joy. And He loves it when we tag along to watch him do what He does best: restore, repair, rebuild, renew, resurrect. He loves it when we bring our brokenness before Him and trust Him to fix it.
It is like his hobby, and He's really good at it.
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