Blocks

Thinking back...

Monday Morning Construction

Task one for the week is to build a concrete block platform for the fourth water tank; the one currently perched haphazardly near the laundry building. Three years ago it sat on a wooden platform next to the Development Center and provided water for the two flush toilets inside the building. Soon it will have a new concrete home and fill that role (and the toilets) again.

The two guys from Jaguar Creek (I wish I knew their names) are busy measuring and staking out the footings for the platform, a job that requires skills and knowledge we don’t have. We cut a few stakes for them, using Dave and Charica’s window shutter lumber, but soon run out of work. I see a stack of concrete blocks in front of the building. Sooner or later they’ll be needed for the platform. I decide to move them. It’s make-work, but necessary.

“Sarah, Matt – let’s move these blocks” “OK, How do you carry them?” I instruct the college kids to hold one block in each hand, careful to keep them away from your legs. Watch out, they’re rough. Walk slowly, you don’t want to trip.

I hoist a block in each hand and turn to make the trip to the back of the building. Directly in front of me is a little guy, all bright eyes, big smile and bare feet. He looks up at me with a toothy grin. “Sir! Sir! I can help?” It isn’t a question as much as a request. I have my doubts. The blocks are nearly half his height. But he is so eager. I try to work out how he’s going to carry such a large and heavy object; one hand on each end? He shakes his head vigorously and turns his back to me. He lifts his hands back behind his head and waits. I finally catch on and place the block between his hands, the weight resting on his back. He scampers off across the construction site, a trip he’ll repeat more times than I will as I try to keep him busy and happy.

I find out later from Sarah that his name is Miguel and he’s 5 years old. He spends the day with us, eagerly helping in any way he can (and cajoling a push on the swings from Sarah whenever he can). There’s a lesson in Miguel’s eager participation that I still haven’t quite put my finger on. I wonder about the metaphor of the concrete block. What blocks in our lives prevent us from living as fully and joyfully as I saw Miguel live on Monday? What tasks do we decide are too tough or too big to tackle, instead of saying “Sir! Sir! I can help!” Here I am Lord. Send me.

- dan terpstra