Like Another Child

May 20, 2025

Beloved:
          When, do you suppose, is a preacher most likely to discover a burst pipe at home?  Sunday mornings, of course, around 7:30 am.  When she walks into her closet and freezy cold water squishes from the carpet over her bare feet.  I left the hose spigot on overnight, which wouldn’t have mattered except the pipe in the wall most likely froze and burst over the winter.  I learned this by calling the plumber’s emergency number.  I turned off the spigot right away and after church discovered wet carpet in the hallway and my second bedroom as well.  I’ve had industrial fans running since, and along with open windows it’s starting to dry out.
          Trees got my regular plumber’s place in last week’s tornado, so they can’t come.  Of the other three I called, only one called back and he’ll be here in a bit to fix the pipe.  And I’ve ordered two of these, a $10 prevention of what I expect to cost twenty times that.  Go figure.  I guess I’m lucky it's the only time I’ve had a burst pipe in all the years I’ve been keeping house.
          Then there’s the privilege of having a house to keep in the first place, a roof over me, a door to close or open as I choose, a soft and warm bed to sleep in every night, a pantry full of good things to eat at any hour I choose.  The only faithful response is good stewardship - sharing, not hoarding, also called hospitality, and caring for this tiny speck of planet as best I can.  In her Crosswicks Journals, about the 200-year-old house she shared with her family in Connecticut, Madeleine L’Engle wrote, having a house is like having another child in that it is always begging for something.  I try to remember her when my pipes burst or an appliance dies, or my living room floor is covered in crayons and paper, tea sets and books, dollhouse furniture and dolls . . . the remnants of such wealth I could not earn in three lifetimes.  But I can sit lightly with the trouble, not grumbling too much about cost or inconvenience, even if I do keep stepping on wet carpet in my socks.
          The day is wet as a duck outside but hopefully this note finds you dry and warm.