I don’t care for ladders.  This may have something to do with my discomfort with heights.  (Heights is any time my feet are more than  three feet from the ground.)  Some of you are snickering at the ridiculousness of my fear, but some of you are nodding with empathy.  So in the case of fears, is it grit or grace that gets us through?

We are building our retirement empty nest #2.  That’s because we already did this once before and changed our minds about where it is we want to retire.  Thus #2.  Let me be clear.  We don’t have/want two houses.  The first empty nest was sold.  The second empty nest is gradually taking shape under the skillful hands of my husband who can make/fix pretty much anything.  Before we secured the permits necessary to begin construction on our house, said husband,  I don’t have/want two husbands, built a sweet little outbuilding to protect our well tank and store his tools.

And there the trouble began.  A cute little outbuilding that deserved to be painted.  However, the house

construction began before my husband could paint the little building and naturally the house took precedence over painting an outbuilding.  So that left the project to me, the heights-squeamish one.  Now mind you, the little outbuilding is only one story.  The peak of the gable ends is a mere 11.5 feet high.

For reasons not worth going into, I had to lean the ladder against the building to paint.  The main problem was that I’m not tall enough to paint from midway up the ladder. No, I had to climb close to the top.  This presented not only the problem with heights but also the awkwardness of my head being where I needed to paint the soffits.  My lack of stature also made it difficult to reach the tippy top of the gables.

Did I mention that I am now good friends with a wonderful massage therapist?  Painting above your head lends itself to stiff necks and paint streaked hair.  Should you ever be tempted to remove paint primer from your skin with a Magic Eraser- Don’t.  Just an aside;  Sherwin Williams All Purpose Paint Primer must be the best on the market if judged by how well it sticks to human skin and hair.  Another brand which shall remain unnamed came right off.  Did you know that the principle that makes Magic Erasers so efficient at removing dirt also makes them efficient at removing skin?  But I digress.

It happens that the cute little building is sided with rough sawn fir.  Unprimed, rough sawn fir.  I believe there is a conspiracy between siding companies and paint companies.  The paint companies pay the siding companies to cut the siding with axes so that they require a great deal of primer and paint which must be applied by working the paint from every direction into each and every crevice of the siding.  About the time my elbow threatened to unhinge, I felt smug that despite objection from said elbow, I had completed one 16 foot long wall.  Whew!  Wait, what are those minuscule holes opening up in the siding?  Turns out rough sawn should be called thirsty rough sawn.  It drinks up paint like a thirsty camel.  Round two of primer.  Round one of paint.  Round two of paint.  Then there’s the garage door with its plastic window frames. . .

The worst was put off as long as possible, but eventually, the gable end barge rafters and soffits had to be primed and painted.  Alas, the fear had to be faced.  The gable end above dirt was much less intimidating than the gable above the cement pad.  One might survive a fall onto dirt, but could one walk away unscathed from a fall onto pavement?  I mulled over this question.  I’m sure my bones are strong, but should a senior citizen tempt gravity?  What if my head hit first and I became more muddled than I already am?  Can blood stains be removed from concrete?

I’m making light of this, but actually, I did a lot of praying as I ascended rung after rung after rung after … balancing paint in one hand.  The wind picked up at this high altitude.  It blew paint from my pad, it blew my hair into my eyes and teased me that it would blow me off balance and dash me to the waiting cement.  But I kept praying.  I know the Lord has an excellent sense of humor.  He could have laughed and told me to suck it up.  11.5 feet isn’t far.  But instead, I felt his encouragement and comfort.  I thanked him for cool weather for painting.  I thanked him for birdsong, health, and a cute building to paint.  I thanked him for each section that was completed as I moved the ladder to the next place.  Of course, when I thought I was done, I wasn’t and the whole climbing thing had to be done again.  But finally, it was finished.  This sounds melodramatic, but when I look at our cute building standing proudly in its new coat(s) of paint, it is a little monument to God’s kindness and faithfulness to me.

So was it grit or grace that got me through?  Here’s my take on this question;  it’s first and last God’s grace, but in between there’s some human grit required.  God prepares our path and then walks on it with us, but we do have to walk.  It reminds me of the story of Jesus’ friends fishing all night without success.  In the morning, Jesus appears and tells them to throw their nets in a certain place which yielded a huge catch.  Jesus could have said, “You’ve tried hard, take a break and I’ll magically put fish in your boat.”  BTW, he was already cooking them a fish breakfast.  Where did he get the fish?  But instead, he asked them to put forth one last effort.  I think God asks us to do the part we can do on a human level with his help.  But all the rest he does.  He gives us the health and motivation to work.  He knows where the fish are.  We just have to follow his directions with the strength he gives us.