If you believe in coincidence I suspect that you are more inclined to believe that commmonplace events and activity are mundane and routine. Accidents may be random, happen to many, and quite often. It may be to you that the ambulance's siren is more noise pollution than a somber signal that somewhere there is a person whose world has just been shaken. The world can be cruel and full of happenstance, so we all encounter trouble, and must either endure it or get relief.
But, if you believe that there is design, and not coincidence, then it is possible to believe that even the seemingly mundane events, or common accidents can be transformative in nature, drawing us into a story greater than ourselves. I believe in Design.
I was up high, a good twenty-five feet, maybe. I wouldn't have been here, in this precarious position had it not been for the departure of my wife about a month earlier. The margins on this job needed to increase now that I was solely responsible for my house and expenses. So, I took on the challenge of being a painter, since I had my own rig.
I had painted a majority of the house already and had previously used the same method to get to the highest points. However, I was always able to get the scaffolding right up against the house, therefore creating at least better conditions for stability. On this last side there was a garden that protruded about two to three feet, so getting the scaffolds where I wanted them was a problem.
I would like to say that I was thinking clearly then, but I wasn't. I was in deep turmoil over my wife and our separation. . My head was spinning with hundreds of thoughts and my heart was heavy. Concentration was not easy, to say the least. So, I rolled the scaffolding up to the landscaping stones, these sturdy and stout stones used to retain the soil in the garden. I placed the ladder on top of the scaffolding and extended it almost to it's limit so that I could reach the peak with the paint gun. And I climbed.
Atop the end of the ladder that was resting on top of the scaffolding, I stretched out with the paint gun. Watching the paint go on the soffit with such ease was somewhat satisfying, yet as I stated earlier, my mind was running non-stop about other things. Also, being atop the ladder, I was not aware (as I should have been) of what my shifting weight was doing down below. As I stretched to the right, trying to take advantage of every square foot coverage possible, I felt something move.
“Oh, Shit,” I said as I knew what was about to happen. The split seconds between my expletive and the thud of my head hitting the ground are not part of memory. I suppose the brain blocks these things? I am reasonably certain that I didn't lose conciousness. Yes. My head hit the ground, but it was ground and not concrete. Nor did I land on the landscaping stones that were a mere foot from my head.
I had broken my left wrist once when I was in High school, the result of flipping over my bicycle handlebars. I remember that I felt energy drain from me when I looked at my wrist that day and knew that it was broken. But on this day, once I got my “wits about me” after the fall, I took a look at my left wrist. My watch was gone and there was a mangled mess of a wrist. I looked at my right wrist and, to my dismay, it was a twin of the left. At that moment I knew that a major change in life had just happened. I was in business for myself and it was obvious that I would not be working for quite a while, if ever again (with my hands). A few seconds of not thinking, a few more seconds of physics and the law of gravity playing out, and here I am, laying on my stomach, arms outstretched, and all by myself. I was on this jobsite alone.
But, if you believe that there is design, and not coincidence, then it is possible to believe that even the seemingly mundane events, or common accidents can be transformative in nature, drawing us into a story greater than ourselves. I believe in Design.
I was up high, a good twenty-five feet, maybe. I wouldn't have been here, in this precarious position had it not been for the departure of my wife about a month earlier. The margins on this job needed to increase now that I was solely responsible for my house and expenses. So, I took on the challenge of being a painter, since I had my own rig.
I had painted a majority of the house already and had previously used the same method to get to the highest points. However, I was always able to get the scaffolding right up against the house, therefore creating at least better conditions for stability. On this last side there was a garden that protruded about two to three feet, so getting the scaffolds where I wanted them was a problem.
I would like to say that I was thinking clearly then, but I wasn't. I was in deep turmoil over my wife and our separation. . My head was spinning with hundreds of thoughts and my heart was heavy. Concentration was not easy, to say the least. So, I rolled the scaffolding up to the landscaping stones, these sturdy and stout stones used to retain the soil in the garden. I placed the ladder on top of the scaffolding and extended it almost to it's limit so that I could reach the peak with the paint gun. And I climbed.
Atop the end of the ladder that was resting on top of the scaffolding, I stretched out with the paint gun. Watching the paint go on the soffit with such ease was somewhat satisfying, yet as I stated earlier, my mind was running non-stop about other things. Also, being atop the ladder, I was not aware (as I should have been) of what my shifting weight was doing down below. As I stretched to the right, trying to take advantage of every square foot coverage possible, I felt something move.
“Oh, Shit,” I said as I knew what was about to happen. The split seconds between my expletive and the thud of my head hitting the ground are not part of memory. I suppose the brain blocks these things? I am reasonably certain that I didn't lose conciousness. Yes. My head hit the ground, but it was ground and not concrete. Nor did I land on the landscaping stones that were a mere foot from my head.
I had broken my left wrist once when I was in High school, the result of flipping over my bicycle handlebars. I remember that I felt energy drain from me when I looked at my wrist that day and knew that it was broken. But on this day, once I got my “wits about me” after the fall, I took a look at my left wrist. My watch was gone and there was a mangled mess of a wrist. I looked at my right wrist and, to my dismay, it was a twin of the left. At that moment I knew that a major change in life had just happened. I was in business for myself and it was obvious that I would not be working for quite a while, if ever again (with my hands). A few seconds of not thinking, a few more seconds of physics and the law of gravity playing out, and here I am, laying on my stomach, arms outstretched, and all by myself. I was on this jobsite alone.
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