The Supervisor

The brilliant idea works better than I expected.  I start out tentatively,

Well, thanks - I sure can use some help.  How about if you supervise this project? You can be my supervisor…

His eyes grow big and his entire face lights up at the sound of the word. The silly title appears to have a magical power over him.

Suddenly, he is important. 

Suddenly, he is significant.

He has discovered his mission in life!

You can sit here, I swing a barstool around the counter, and watch me do all the work. When I mess up, you just point it out. That, in essence, is what supervisors do – sit around doing nothing but watching other people do all the work and then pointing out their mistakes. Would you like to be my supervisor?

He walks to the barstool as if in trance, I don’t think he really hears me.  He is on Cloud Nine of his new-found purpose and I know I won’t have to worry about him for a while as long as he remains seated.

...

I read somewhere that the Greek word for baptism is related to the process of dyeing a garment.  The process where the garment is changed, truly transformed, from one into another by frequent dipping into the new color. It’s a painstaking process that requires tenacity and patience. 

Painting the kitchen cabinets makes me appreciate the process.  

I realize that there is more to baptism than being dunked once and you are done. Voila! Instant Christlikeness!

 

I am ‘baptizing’ my kitchen one brushstroke at a time. Each brushstroke reminds me that the transformation is slow, painstaking process. One steady brushstroke after brushstroke after brushstroke at a time. I have to keep them light and feathery, careful not to slather too much too soon, or I make even bigger mess.  

This project is bigger than it can be accomplished in a day.  I have to wait between layers, learn to live with a mess, live with incompleteness, learn to rest even in the midst of all the chaos.  

For somebody who likes closure and order, that is very very hard.