Snow dusted the ground this morning. As I looked out my window I couldn’t help but reflect on the changing seasons. A constant in a fickle world. Dependable yet unpredictable. I’m learning through these changing seasons to strive for awareness. I do not wish to be passed by without pausing to reflect. And in this reflection I rarely come to any other conclusion than this; how beautiful it is to simply exist. These are a few humble thoughts from my experiences over the past months.
Thing #1 Fight for the Words
It’s been almost a year since I wrote extensively in any creative capacity. I haven’t ceased writing altogether. I’ve started journaling little thoughts throughout my day. In the fall I had the opportunity of being published in a quarterly news letter for the fire department I work for. And I’ve signed my name at the bottom of a few birthday cards.
So why the break from writing?
And why start again?
My original goal two years ago was to write three things every month for a year. I accomplished that and during the process realized how necessary writing was in the articulation of my thoughts and experiences. Yet, when I met that original goal I failed to set another goal. I thought I would just continue writing. I anticipated that the benefits of writing would simply outweigh the resistance I felt every time my fingers touched the keyboard. And in no time Caleb Shetler would be synonymous with C. S. Lewis. In a shocking turn of events this did not happen. I stopped writing. I found comfort in the completion of my previous year. I cycled between my favorite excuses like a pair of trump cards in an already stacked hand. Should I play the classic “I don’t have time” card? or the “I don’t know what to write” card? Easy, I’ll play them both. And play them I did. No creative writing for 10 months. But it didn’t feel right. Writing made me think. Writing stripped away my assumptions of how I thought I felt and required a precise dialogue and structure with my thoughts. It had to be perfect. Not in a literary way, I couldn’t diagram a sentence if my life depended on it. I mean it had to be perfectly truthful. It had to be genuine and organic and real. Without that truth, it’s very difficult to navigate through your mind. Not surprisingly I find myself with an increasing need to dissect and define those thoughts. It’s so easy to read the title of a book and assume the contents or watch a 6 second YouTube short and assume the context.
So I’m writing again. I’m fighting to find the words again.
Thing #2 Let the Flag Fly
The winter wind gently swayed the bucket of the ladder truck. I clutched the endless folds of red and white fabric as I peered over the edge. The weight of this American flag was more than I expected. But then again, I didn’t know what to expect. I’d never done this before.
“How does that look?” I shouted down from my perch as I tied the last corner of the flag.
“It’s good!” came the reply from the ground.
If you know me in any real capacity you’ve probably heard me reference the little volunteer fire department where I got my start. 10 years ago Ruckersville Volunteer Fire Company adopted a 16 year old kid that didn’t know what he was going to do with his life. I owe so much to those that produced a positive impression on a very impressionable kid. One of the members I recall from those early days was Butch Knight. He was more reserved than most of the firefighters. He proved that you didn’t have to be the biggest or loudest to gain respect. He gave me an old truckers hat that I wore on just about every adventure in my college years. When I returned from college he wasn’t around the station anymore. I couldn’t tell you the last memory I have with him. Recently members of our fire company learned that Butch passed away suddenly. One of his wishes was to take his last ride in the back of a fire engine. There was no question that we would make this happen. Hose came out of the hose bed. flags went up. A last call was written to be transmitted over the radio. A cold yet clear Tuesday afternoon provided a glimpse of Americana. 5 of us held a salute as the fire engine passed.
Butch, Thank you for all you’ve done for this little town.
Thing #3 In the Trenches
A combination of anxiety and excitement swirled around my mind as I plunged my shovel into the Virginian red clay. Days earlier a plumber had given me an estimate on the cost to dig, lay, and hook up a new water main to our house. When he told me the estimated cost I felt like he punched me in my kidney. I think I might’ve peed a little blood. I then did what any self respecting man does and went to my wife to ask if we could afford it. We quickly deduced that we couldn’t really afford it but that it would be difficult to shower and stay alive without access to running water. So we braced ourselves for the financial impact.
Enter Michael Karr, one of the nicest people I’ve met since moving to Scottsville. He’s about as country as they come and subscribes to the idea of loving your neighbor as yourself. He told me I’d be a fool if I paid someone that much money to fix my water main. I asked him if he knew how to do it and he told me, “No! but I bet we can figure it out.”
He offered to use his DitchWitch to dig the ditch and we scheduled Friday afternoon for a make or break plumbing course. There’s something magical about feeling the support of your community. Word got out in the small town regarding our plan and more guys showed up. People I had never met were grabbing shovels to help? Why? Because Michael lives lives his life genuinely. If you’re associated with him you know whatever cause he’s working towards is worthwhile. A lesson that I can’t possibly overstate.
As the sun set we crawled out from under the house. We were cold, tired, and covered in mud and smiles. We got water.
Find those around you that will get in the trenches with you. If they’re actual trenches that’s even cooler.
Final Thoughts:
I think you’re a wonderful person.
Song Suggestion: “what are you afraid of (work tape)” Wilder Woods
