“I think our pipes froze. What should I do?”
“It was probably that L in the attic. Use your blow dryer and try to thaw it. Then get pipe insulation. You got this. Love you.”
My dad is a carpenter. A scroll through our call log would show calls that are
Quick.
Help.
I need advice.
Love you. Bye.
“Tomorrow is potty training. I’m not ready. Give me patience.”
“Should we take the job or stay here? I don’t know what’s right. Make it obvious.”
“Please, God. Please. Let the kids sleep for even half a night straight.”
My Father is a carpenter. I fall asleep feeling guilty for not spending more time with Him. My prayers are
Quick.
Help.
I need advice.
Love you. Amen.
“How’s the hot water today?”
“Flowing! New insulation helped too. It was -8 this morning and no issues.” A baby screams in the not-so-distant background.
“Well, I know your hands are full, but I just wanted to check in.”
“Thanks. Sorry I need to grab him.”
“I get it. I’m only ever a phone call away. I love you.”
I wear my guilt more often than I wear make-up these days.
I microwave my coffee four times before
giving up, and I get up from my quiet time more
than I spend in it.
I fear my inadequacies will lose my spot at the family table.
But I am the daughter of a carpenter
and he loves me, amen.
Kaitlyn Newbery is an adjunct English professor at University of the Cumberlands. She enjoys exploring questions about her faith through metaphors and storytelling.