Using The Right Tool

My daddy once told me that I could tear up a crowbar. I think I've mentioned before that I am not good with tools. One or all of three things will probably happen. I will hurt myself, hurt someone else, or tear up something. The inability to operate a screwdriver, a hammer or a wrench runs in the Brady family. Basically, when it comes to fixing something we don't know what we are doing.

My brother, Mike, is definitely not a Mr. Fix It. He doesn't even know which tool he ought to use when he works on a project. Years ago, before my mother moved from our home place, she reluctantly asked Michael Lee if he could install a new commode seat for her. She had bought one of those padded seats. Mike said, "Oh sure, I can do that! That will be easy!" Why not? Anybody can remove two nuts, take off the old seat, and put the new one on. Right? Maybe not!

Here's what happened. Mike got a wrench and proceeded to unscrew the nuts. That old commode seat had been on the commode for many years. The nuts and bolts holding the seat had rusted, and Mike couldn't budge those stubborn nuts. Now I'm sure there is a way to loosen rusted nuts. With a little patience and know how that task can easily be accomplished. Unfortunately, Mike had neither. In his twisted, non mechanical mind he decided that he needed two more tools to get the job done. So he goes and gets a screwdriver and a hammer. Those of you who know how to select the right tool for a job are probably cringing by now. Let me continue.

Mike surmised that all he needed to do would be to place the tip of the screwdriver on the nut, and tap the top of the screwdriver with the hammer. In theory that simple procedure would loosen the rusted nut. I hate to say it, but if I had been there I would have probably agreed with his tool choices. Tap, tap, tap. Nothing moved. Maybe a little more forceful tap will do the trick. TAP! TAP! TAP! Those of you who know my brother well can mentally picture his aggressiveness, and his move forward, take the bull by the horns attitude. There was one tap too many. That final TAP sent the screwdriver right through the side of that fragile, porcelain commode. Pieces of porcelain covered the floor. Water went every where. And my poor mother was banging her head against the wall lamenting that in one of those brain freeze moments she had asked Mike that question, " Do you think you could install my new commode seat?"

The moral to the story. Life can work! Be patient. Take your time. Use the right tools. Allow the Master Builder, the Creator, to give you the tools and the ability to use them