Reflections on Construction (not the philosophy, the manual labor)

Well, I think I would rather be writing about constructionism and how it affects my worldview, but alas, I am writing about construction. That thing that many people pay to have done. The thing that older men tend to think is real work (unlike being a campus minister as I was told at my old church where I was *cough* the campus minister). The thing that I was told by my mom, would be good for me. And finally the thing (or a form of it) my departed father did 13 hours a day, 6 days a week for most of my life.

For the past 3 weeks, I have been doing construction work as an unskilled laborer at the rate of 10 bucks an hour, interacting with men old enough to be my father, and young men who are all over the map in their life journey. I find myself thinking about the redemptive work of construction and trying to find something thoughtful and deep, but I have often walked back to my home disappointed. I will now write about a few of my encounters with people and thoughts.

Stories - The general construction workers life is all over the map. There is the born again cabinet guy who doesn't smoke or drink, all the workers profoundly trust, but who occasionally puts on crooked doors and knobs. There is the jack of all trades that is an alcoholic, lives in a motel, who shows up to the bar more than the worksite, and who brings his stinky blind 18 year old dog to work with him every day. There is the young guy who worked for 2 weeks and disappeared - phone was disconnected, didn't pick up his paycheck disappeared - no one has a clue where he went. There is the other young guy whose mother is a preacher in town and who struggles with drug addiction. He was just out of rehab for Meth addiction and probably smokes a good bit of pot and drinks like a fish. There is the electrician who typically works from 4 in the morning until 9 am, who I rarely see.

These stories have dramatically changed my perspective of small town life. Of the men who don't know how to work hard, consumption is a way of life. Work is only done when money is needed to pay for something. When money is no longer needed, work is no longer needed. Violence has been done to the act of work by the love of consumption. Work serves no other need for most of these men than providing goods and services for themselves and their families. The work seems to have no intrinsic value in itself.

VOCATIONThe understanding of vocation that I taught to students in the university is rarely understood in the world of construction. Your hands hurt, your back hurts, you inhale sawdust and concrete daily, and when you get home, your body aches and you just want to sit on the couch and watch TV. Now I know how my dad felt. When I get home, I am essentially exhausted. I haven't read much other than time magazine for the past 3 weeks. I have only worked, eaten, viewed TV, interacted with my wife, and slept. I have read very few books. My wife tells me it is just a matter of self control, but it seems so much deeper than that. I feel like I have very little energy left to finish reading Nietzsche (whose name I have enough trouble remembering how to spell, only correct by spellcheck) which I think now takes more energy than I ever imagined.

I try daily not to reduce my current vocation to a means to an end. I find work most fulfilling when I am actually building, and not just hauling around trash. I was able to build a small wall frame, a mailbox stand, and the beginnings of a privacy wall (which I have to completely redo due to my misunderstanding of warped wood and its usability). Some days, it is very very hard. There have been days where my primary job has been to run the shopvac over the floors to prepare for flooring to be put in. Physically, this is unpleasant for me due to my height. But as an unskilled laborer, this is my job. I must admit, I could push dirt around for a while in the little John Deer tractor. I feel like I finally get to drive a Tonka truck that I played with as a child.

ACTS OF CREATION - A hard part of building homes is the part and parcel process. There are so many separate things that come together for a house to be finished, it seems beyond me how God could create and sustain a whole world. It is hard enough just to build a house. At the same time, I miss the wholeness of knowing the complete process of homebuilding. I only get to be a part of small parts - flooring, small parts of framing, small parts of decks and stairs. I don't get to do wiring or plumbing or insulation, or HVAC. Those are vital parts that happen apart from me. I would love to be able to see the big picture, but because there are so many people involved, I am usually only involved in one small part. It reminds me of desiring God's wisdom. I desire to know how all things will work out and what the meaning and significance is for every part of life, but one needs God's perspective to know those things. God sees every situation and makes the best decisions for the whole, but I only see parts, not the whole. I want to see the whole, but in God's creation, and in homebuilding.

My desire is still to go to Graduate school,and I look forward to substitute teaching, and hopefully becoming a full time teacher in the spring. All I know for now is, I have at least 2 more weeks of construction.