About five weeks ago now my crew and I installed the bitter pieces of the sewage handling system at the church in Fushekruje. We had a time restriction because I had promised Shpetim, the man who’s family owns the road which leads to our property, that we would not have the road torn up for more than two days. In my haste to meet that deadline, I overlooked the need for a back-flow valve in the line. A back-flow valve keeps waste heading in one direction and is designed to keep waste from inundating your system with the waste from a dozen or so other residences. The first toilets fed into systems which did not have back-flow valves, which is why you were encouraged not to use your toilet during high-tide.
And so with concrete looming, set to begin next Monday, today was the day to get our final preparations in order before the pour. Installing this valve while the system was new and had not been covered over might have taken Mariglen the plumber five minutes. Because I allowed myself to get in a rush the valve went in in just under ten man-hours. There is a maintenance metaphor in here, one of taking the time to regulate what God has blessed you with in its proper time.
If I say I don’t have time to plan my finances, or to teach my child how to properly address and adult, or to work-out, then I am cheating myself of my intended future. God did not design us to suffer at our own hands. Rushing through the things that maintain health of spirit, body, soul, mind, and relationship give to our future a cloudy nature it need not have. If we make time for the things which are important to God, God will make time for the things which are important to us.
Osman paid a working visit to our job-site today. Osman is Shpetim Lulla’s friend (no not the Shpetim who owns the road) and the three of us have had coffee together a number of times. Osman appears either to be a boulder with arms and legs attached or a man who was rough hewn from basalt before the dawn of time. He is a blacksmith and one of the most talented artists I have ever encountered. I hope to learn a few basics of iron work from him before my time in Fushekruje comes to an end.
Osman came to work on our gate voluntarily. I asked him what I could pay him for the work, and he insisted that I not pay him anything because we are friends. It is good to work beside a master of their trade, but it is nearly as educational just to observe what they do when they make beauty out of iron or wood or words. There is a speed and precision to a master’s craft which makes one feel almost silly for having thought there might be another way to perform a given task. Osman could have re-hung our gate while giving the play-by-play of an American Football game, never missing a down, never misplacing the smallest drop of welding rod.
Metal craft is simple craft. Watching Osman I could see that there is a natural discovery taking place in the mind of the artist while they work. In many ways an artist has no idea what they will do when the time comes to craft; but they know that knowing precisely which steps to take has always been as natural as breathing for them. It implicit in their genius.
albaniacalling 