“The house seems to be falling apart.”

It was only seven years ago that the Lovely Lady and I purchased her childhood home and, leaving our comfort zone far behind, labored for several months to make sure the house was ready to be lived in.  We installed new appliances, replaced floors and ceilings, and generally spiffed up the inside spaces.

Set for life.  I’m pretty sure those were the words I used when we moved our furniture, artwork, and books into the beautiful space.  I was certain we had done good work, purchasing quality materials, and planning for future needs.

Now, it’s falling apart.

Oh, it’s not really falling apart.  But, the sprayer in the kitchen sink gave up the ghost a couple of weeks ago, prompting me to order a new one from an online superstore (which shall remain nameless).  The replacement arrived and was duly installed, only to fail within five days.  I sent it back and went to visit the local building supply.  We’ll see how long this replacement lasts.

Then, last week, our kids and grandkids came for a visit (as they do most weeks).  Having eaten a little too much for supper, I suggested to the Lovely Lady that we take a walk right after bidding the rowdy bunch a loving goodbye.  We returned to a house that was much warmer than the outside temperature.

With help from YouTube, I figured out what was wrong with the air conditioner compressor and effected a repair, but not before an encounter with a mathematically challenged sales rep at the local home repair center.  He was kind enough to accept a return of the part he recommended in error and, still shaking his head in confusion, sent me on my way.

It’s cool inside again, but some part of me—the non-logical part—tells me the house is falling apart.

I keep installing new parts in old gadgets. The refrigerator, the stove, the storm doors.

It’s the only way I know to keep them functioning.

The Teacher had something to say about new parts in old things.

“Besides, who would patch old clothing with new cloth? For the new patch would shrink and rip away from the old cloth, leaving an even bigger tear than before.“  (Matthew 9:16, NLT)

I know—it’s not the same thing; I’m not comparing apples to apples, as the red-headed lady who raised me would have said.  Still, it seems incongruous—putting new parts in old machinery.

Sooner or later, the old parts remaining in the device will fail and I’ll throw away the entire affair, new parts and old alike.

It will all fall apart eventually.

And, without invitation, the fatalism that has eaten at my core for years shows up anew.  I’ve said the words before.  To my shame, I’ve said them.

“What’s the use?”

I want to blame that red-headed lady, the one who raised me.  She had so many catchphrases to prove her point.

“It’s just par for the course.”
“It is what it is.”
“Why would I expect anything better?”
“The story of my life!”

I want to blame her, but it’s not her fault.  It’s not.  The human reaction to change and challenges is to believe the worst—to foresee failure.  Even when we’ve experienced triumphs again and again we somehow seem to expect that the next time, we may not rise from the ashes victorious.

Change is hard.  It pushes us to the edge of our abilities and even the limits of our hopefulness. 

And sometimes, we do fail.  Or, we experience losses.  Despite all our blessings, we begin to anticipate the rough times.

Just last week, as I talked with a younger friend entering his middle years, I realized the pattern starts early.  He spoke of difficulties, of challenges ahead, and even of losses behind.  I tried to reassure him that good things still lie ahead, but in retrospect, I think my private doubts might have made my words a little dubious.

I’m not alone.  Many I know are uncertain in these tempestuous days.  Almost without exception, we wonder where our world, our country, and our communities are headed.  And, then there are the personal issues: our families, our neighborhoods, our work, even our faith communities.

Can I say this?  I may not have been resolute enough in my affirmation of good things ahead with my young friend, but I am absolutely certain of one thing.

Our Creator is making all things new.  Even now, it is happening.  It’s what He does.