Quarter Sawn

Recently I found a little time to go down to the shop and start a new project. It seems that the boss wants a cabinet to collect and arranged her sheet music. I was amiable to this when I realized that it might get the mess off of the bedroom floor. My plan for the cabinet is to make it out of red oak. Red oak is relative hard, it is stable, and has a nice rich color when a light stain is applied. Over the years it will patina and the color will darken and make the broad gain stand out like the gold braid on a generals hat.

As I was going through my pile of lumber trying to select pieces so the grain would match and the color would be close to similar I began to wonder about where the tree had grown that gave me these beautiful pieces of wood. Had it been a tree of the forest, or was it in someone’s field and had to go to make room for more crops to grow. Or had it been a large oak in someone’s yard that had provided shade from the hot summer sun for so many years, and now it was gone leaving a barren landscape baking in the 90 degree heat.  I wondered if the tree had been nurtured and cared for, or did it grow left alone to fend for itself in the harsh elements of nature.  Did someone prune the unhealthy branches, fertilize the ground, and water it regularly; or did it grow by itself making its way the best it could against the ravages of natures storms and pestilence.  

Then I noticed a little worm hole where something alien and destructive tried demolish the oak. Had the worm been the reason that the oak was cut down; or did it grow to maturity in spite of the little worm’s attempt to eat it alive? As I continued to look at the grain I wondered about the age of the tree, was it cut down in the prime of its life or was it fully mature ready to give up its strength and beauty to be made into my wife’s music cabinet? 

 

As I contemplated the tree I started thinking about my own life; where I came from, how I matured, how I had faced the storms and pestilence of life.  How had my younger years compared to my peers; was I nurtured and cared for?  Did my family do a good work of pruning the ugly branches that were growing and misshaping my character?  Did they water and fertilize my life with virtues and morals that would make me a person of distinction; someone known to be kind, humble, honest, not self-serving but seeking to serve others who needed the hand of friendship?  Was there a patina about my life that gives me a sense of maturity that others can be fond of and respect?   Had someone taken the time and effort to “quarter saw” my growth so that I would be the strongest possible man with a grain set close making me inflexible to changes and whims of the times, holding fast to my principles that are found between the close lines of the grain of my life? How much has my life warped and curled from what it should have been, or did I hold true the teachings of those who loved me and valued me as I grew? My oak boards are flat and straight for the most part, they have done well except for a knot or two; but knots are beauty marks that show the stress of time and growth.  I now wondered, had my life the beauty marks of overcoming the havoc of time, or was I covered with the ugliness of scars where I had failed to be true to my heritage?

 

Although we are not given to authority to judge the entirety of someone’s life we can look at the growth rings and knots that appear from time to time. Those in the public eye, especially those in the political arena, are particularly vulnerable to scrutiny. As I looked at my lumber and pondered the politicians I realize that too often we fail to give our leaders the same examination that I was giving my oak.  Although I can’t know, with ease, the history of my lumber; I can know with relative ease the history of anyone seeking political office. I can see their knots and what caused them; I can see their worm holes and how they coped with the little fellows and whether or not their response was in keeping with what is good and true. I can look at their history through the grain patterns of their life and know whether they are virtuous or self-serving.  The issue is not that politicians lack enough exposure to be properly scrutinized; the problem is that we all too often over look our own principles so that we will over look their lack of principle without feeling any guilt or remorse for our lack of discernment. We want what they call the “good life” without the cost required to achieve it; thus we overlook their obvious weaknesses seeking their hollow promises.

 

Now to the point of this; Barak Obama is a knotty piece of scrub oak that is not much good except for fire wood. But don’t blame Obama for this because he is exactly what he said he would be. He is filled with worm holes, never had the nurture and care that he needed to develop a character that would serve anyone with the exception of himself.  The ravages of life failed to strengthen him; instead they warped his ideals and made him a hater of personal accountability and the freedom that fosters self-actualization. But again I say don’t blame Obama, we knew what we were getting when we searched through the wood pile. His life and associations were all the evidence that we needed to realize that this man values nothing that comes from the great heritage of the American dream. He is like a hallow tree, looks great on the outside but is hollow on the inside and rotten to the core. The only thing left to do now is to hold his feet to the fire of the Constitution and demand that our representatives take charge of their responsibilities that they garner from the same great unchanging document.

 

Have a Great Day,

Gregg

A CHRIST-LESS world is a callous world, and mercy was never a characteristic of pagan life. William Barclay