A Helping Hand

This may be my first entry, but it is an important one.

On Monday night my front headlight burned out. I went to the auto parts store, purchased a new light and went back to my apartment. My attempt to install it was unsuccessful. I needed an extension to my ratchet, something I was without. After trying for 45 minutes to get the bulb out, by contorting my hand without removing the pieces of metal and plastic blocking it, I had to call it quits. It was now dark, starting to rain and the back of my hand was bleeding.

After my failure, I called up Kirk. He reported that he had a ratchet with the necessary extension and that I should come over after work on Tuesday night.

Both Kirk and I worked long hours at our respective offices Tuesday. By the time I arrived at his house it was 7pm. With Laura in the kitchen making ratatouille for dinner, Kirk headed out to the garage to change one Ford Focus light bulb, a seemingly simple task.

One hour later, our patience tested, the entire headlamp casing nearly removed from its location (the manual calls for its total removal, something that was impossible for us) Kirk was able to squeeze his hand behind behind the casing. Blindly he maneuvered his hand into position and popped out the bulb. A few minutes later he was able to insert the new bulb and lock it into position.

As we (read: Kirk) reassembled the parts that we had removed around the headlamp casing, we knew that we were missing one plastic bolt. It was the bolt that required the ratchet extension and was the reason for my trip to Kirk's. It had slipped through Kirk's hand when he was removing it and was lost. (To his credit I had removed the beam of the flashlight right as Kirk was grabbing the bolt.) Flashlights in hand we searched the garage over for the absent part. With it no where in sight and Kirk's attempt to use spare metal bolts unsuccessful, we resorted to finishing the job without the plastic bolt. (It was 1 of 3 blots that secured the headlamp and seemed secure enough to drive until I could pick up a plastic bolt).

With the car almost back together, I reached down into the plastic lid of the ratchet set we had separated and stored the screws and bolts from the car. Any guesses as to what was in the case with the other fasteners?

You guessed it, the plastic bolt. Somehow the bolt fell through the car hit the garage floor and landed in with the other bolts and screws. This was somewhat unbelievable to us, but there it was, right where it belonged along with all of the other parts.

After complete reassembly and thanking Kirk, I took off for home. My mind however, could not stop thinking about that bolt.

Seemingly lost, on its own, in the expanse of the dimly light, cold, grayish garage floor, we were unaware that fate had dropped it in with its brethren.

Now, if I may get a bit philosophical; I feel that every individual is somewhat dropped onto this Earth. The planet can appear, at times, to be as cold, gray and dimly lit as that garage floor, but if you look around most of us are truly blessed. Like the bolt we are right were we belong.

Kirk and I are lucky to be surrounded by a strong, tight nit family. Because of the strong family foundation, built through the generations, we were both able to find two extraordinary woman who come from remarkable families. We both were able to cultivate life long friendships with many of our friends from college. And we both have in place the framework for passing on the importance of family to the next generation of Stelsels.

I'll finish this missive, where it began. Would anyone ever question Kirk's offer to help, even if he knew it would take as long as it did? I think we all know the answer to that. And that, unnecessary answer means more to me than anything in the world.

David

Categories: life or something like it