Do you remember the guy from the 80s who could fix anything with...well...anything? His knowledge of physics and chemistry paired with unconventional thinking always got him out of whatever corner he was backed into...as long as he had his Swiss army knife. My husband doesn't own a Swiss army knife, but he does own several rolls of duct tape. With duct tape in hand my mild mannered minister man suddenly becomes McGyver. (The 1980s one...the humble one. Not a fan of these remakes!)
"Honey! Where is the duct tape?"
Those words honestly used to make me cringe...but with good reason.
Back when my husband was a bachelor waiting for me to graduate from college so we could marry, he furnished his home with what he could afford. He bought a couch, end tables, and a coffee table from I don't know where. The couch was decent enough to begin with. The end tables and coffee tables looked to be matching gigantic spools with a Formica top. At the time I knew this would more than likely be our first home and I must confess I had a secret agenda to rid ourselves of those coffee tables as soon as I could!
The couch was under my radar...until I came to visit and was greeted with duct tape cushions. The seams had begun to split and he did what he could to make repairs on his own. It may not have been as bad if it had been one of the new pretty patterned kind instead of the old silver standby....okay...yes. It would still have been as bad.
As horrified as I was it was my first lesson in duct tape 101:
Duct Tape will hold anything together.
Motherhood has taught me another lesson:
Things are going to break.
We have gone through countless ounces of wood glue, super glue, and hot glue and innumerable rolls of scotch tape, packaging tape, and...you guessed it...duct tape. Papers are torn, glass is shattered, and knick-knacks get knocked. Sometimes those things are fixable...sometimes not. Many objects in our home are sentimentally special to me....our wedding cake topper...an original painting created for us as a wedding gift...a music box I had when I was little...they are more than objects to me. They are moments in time, memories I desire to hold on to. Yet, I have learned not to be quite so heartbroken when something comes crashing down because they are things.
I'll admit it is not easy to hold my temper when the girls break something, but the consequences of treasuring my trinkets over my children are dire. They may be punished if their disobedience caused the calamity, but I make sure they know their punishment is for the disobedience, not breaking something. I never want my precious daughters to feel I have treasured objects over them.
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.