The Lovely Lady was in the dark.  In more than just one way.  She called her main trouble-shooter to solve her problem.  “Can you tell me why it’s dark in my kitchen?” was the query she started with when I answered the phone from the music store next door.  I’m pretty sure that she didn’t really think I already knew the answer–wasn’t suggesting that I had done something to the overhead light fixture, but I, being the genius everyone knows me to be, suggested wisely that there might be something wrong with it.  A few moments later, I was home and checking to find out exactly what it was that was wrong.  It just wouldn’t do to keep the Lovely Lady out of her kitchen.  I have come to enjoy my meals over the last few years and it is difficult to cook in a dark kitchen.

A few basic tests ruled out circuit problems, as well as a faulty switch.  There was certainly electric current to the wires up in the ceiling.  There had been no flashing as fluorescent bulbs will exhibit before failure, so that left one option:  the ballast.  I wrote down a part number and called an electrician friend of mine.  The part was delivered today.  I even took a few moments of my evening tonight to install it.  I believe that I may be favored with a home-cooked meal tomorrow.  Time will tell.  At any rate, the lights are shining brightly in the kitchen once more.

I have replaced more ballasts in my lifetime than most folks, simply because over the years, the fixtures in my different business locations have employed fluorescent lamps as a primary light source.  I will admit to a stellar lack of curiosity regarding the metal boxes with so many wires protruding.  You attach all those wires to the like-colored wires going to the lamps and the result is a circuit that works.  Tonight, for some odd reason, I have an inquiring mind.  What does that heavy box do?  And, one burning question is on my lips.  Why in the world is it called a ballast?

I know what ballast is; I’ve read about it with regard to ships.  It is the weight that helps to retain balance in sea-going vessels, causing them to ride deeper in the water than would be normal for an empty craft.  Sometimes ballast is useful goods, such as extra weapons, or building materials, or even food.  It also could be simply dead weight, such as pieces of iron or heavy wood.  Its purpose is to help keep the ship upright as it sails across the waves.  For obvious reasons, a light, bouncy craft is not easy to control, nor is it likely to fare well in heavy winds without a bountiful amount of weight to keep it stable.  Ballast can also be used in hot air balloons, to keep them near the earth and not soaring out of control into the upper atmosphere.  Only in extreme circumstances would one ever jettison the ballast, since it is impossible to replace it again, once the emergency is past, until the balloon has landed.  Ballast, then, helps to provide stability and control.

Photo by alwyn cooper

I have never before seen the correlation between the type of ballast which these great conveyances employ to assure a smooth journey and the ballast which is installed in the circuit of every fluorescent light you see.  A little light reading (my apologies) tonight enlightened (sorry again) me profoundly.  The ballast in this particular light fixture does exactly what the ballast in those vessels does; it provides balance, stability.  You see, the way a fluorescent bulb functions is that is contains gas and a coating which has fluorescent qualities, both of which are ignited by the electrical current provided as soon at the switch is flipped on.  So far, so good.  We have light.  The problem comes in the physical qualities of ignited gas, specifically that when it is excited by the electrical current, the resistance is reduced almost to nothing.  Without control of the current, the gas would glow brighter and brighter, and the current would be drawn in higher and higher quantities with potentially disastrous results.  Almost certainly the fixture would be ruined and quite possibly, fires and damage to other electrical components in the circuit would occur.

Enter the ballast, a box containing electronic components and a tar-like substance for noise insulation.  No, it is not named a ballast for its great weight, although that explanation had occurred to me.  What the ballast does is to limit the amount of current which can flow to the gas in the light tubes.  It allows a higher current to start the process and immediately, when it senses a larger than normal flow, chokes it down.  Because the power source is alternating current (it flows one direction, reverses, and flows back the other), this process occurs many times per second, but our eyes can’t actually discern the process.  Every time the current switches direction (60 times per second) the ballast does its job again.  No wonder the Lovely Lady’s kitchen fixture needed repair!  Think of how many times that ballast has performed it’s duties over the last ten years, since we installed the light.

Too much technical stuff?  Maybe we could switch gears for a moment then.  As frequently happens, my mind has jumped to the human condition…well, specifically to my condition, as I have written the words above.  How many times have I rushed ahead on a project I have visualized, my little craft speeding and skittering over the surface, only to meet with disaster as I skidded, out of control, into the barrier of reality.  The brilliance of the idea has stolen away my normal inhibitions, skirted my customary filters.  Knowledge is unleashed and the ballast of wisdom and experience are tossed overboard.  The questions of “what if?”, and “should we consider this for a moment?”, are shoved aside in favor of the “full speed ahead” order by the irresponsible captain.  Catastrophe awaits without ballast.  Balance and control, coupled with enthusiasm and exuberance, will accomplish an incredible amount of work.

I also believe that the ballast concept carries over into the arena of community.  I personally know many “idea” people.  They are the dreamers, the visionaries, who see what could be.  I tend, in community, to be ballast.  I ask questions and suggest potential pitfalls.  I see what might befall.  Together, the visionaries and the questioners make good time on projects, avoiding problems, and achieving the goals.  Alone, each of us is plagued with failure after failure.  Both are a necessity.  Too often, we glorify one and ridicule the other.  Perhaps it’s time that we celebrate the team, the body, if you will.  The hand is not the foot, but it needs that odd appendage to fulfill its purpose.  We are not alike, but we are linked inseparably, and without question, beneficially.

Ballast would not be the thing I would think to praise, if someone were to ask me what is most important in life.  It, however, is a vital part of our existence, both physical and spiritual.  Balance is essential.  I know.  I fall down when I lose mine.  In more ways than just one.

Knowledge.  Wisdom.  The bulb and the ballast that together give light with which to see and to live.  It might be a good time to check and see that both are in working order…

“In art and dream, may you proceed with abandon.  In life, may you proceed with balance and stealth.”
(Patti Smith~American songwriter/singer)

“‘Po-ta-toes,’ said Sam.  ‘The Gaffer’s delight, and rare good ballast for an empty stomach.'”
(from “The Two Towers”~J.R.R.Tolkien~British novelist~1892-1973)

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I didn’t know what to do.  

It was the second time in as many days that I was stumped to determine my next move.  The customer had been waiting for a couple of weeks for the parts and subsequent repair to the set of speakers he needed for his sound system.  He has a job this weekend for which he must have the system operable.  I had made him a promise.  “We’ll have it up and going today.”  I was, of course, depending on the delivery service to fulfill their promise (which they did) and was also assuming that I would have the time to effect the necessary repairs to the units (which I did, barely).  I was also depending on having made the correct diagnosis regarding the remedy for the issue (yeah…not so much).  I was still assembling the magnet on the speaker as he walked in the front door.  He was understanding and agreed to hang around until I could finish.  With the task completed, I reassembled the complete unit and, we plugged in a guitar to try it out.

It was a complete failure.  The anemic, distorted noise coming through the newly rebuilt speakers was nothing like the clear, punchy music we had expected to hear.  Quite obviously, there was something else wrong which I had failed to take into my calculations.  We were a sorry pair; me–the shopkeeper, needing to make a sale, but falling short of the mark and he–the customer, realizing that the necessary equipment for his performance this week was further out of reach than it had been when he walked in the door.  Neither of us had a clue as to our next step.

As I sat there on the speaker cabinet, I breathed a prayer for clarity of thought.  It may be no coincidence that in that instant, my eye was drawn to another speaker cabinet nearby and a thought hit me.  “Hey!  Did you know that I’ve got the matching cabinet to the speaker I sold you a couple of months ago?  Just this weekend, I bought it from the guy who built both of them.”  As he examined the speaker cabinet, the twin to his, his face brightened.  “I think this will work just as well as those would have!  Can I afford it?”  We negotiated a fair price, he purchased some peripheral items, and he went out a happy customer, thankfully, my last one of the day.  I was drained, emotionally and physically.

I said it was the second time I had been in the situation recently.  The first time was a little more frightening, but in a way, the result was the same.  We were about to finish up the singing time in our Sunday morning service.  The people had learned a new song and we were going through it one more time, to keep it fresh in our minds.  The congregation had done their part well and were singing enthusiastically…“For all your goodness, I will keep on singing.  Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find.”  In the middle of that phrase, I (along with most people in the church) had our eyes drawn to a strange movement in the center of the building, just behind the front row.  A young man, barely in his teens, leaned, turning as he toppled and smacked the concrete floor hard.  We kept going for a line of two more, but most had stopped singing and soon, the worship team did that too.  For a moment or two, the place was silent, as the health care professionals who were in attendance worked on the young man.

Photo by Leland Francisco

I didn’t know what to do next.  For a long moment we stood and then, I was praying into the microphone, asking for wisdom for the workers and a healing touch from the Great Physician.  It certainly wasn’t an eloquent prayer.  I’m not sure I know how to do eloquent. But, in just another minute or two, the boy was up and being helped out of the worship center to rest in privacy.  We were to learn later that he is going to recover just fine.  For a few moments there, it was a scary time.

Several people assured me that I had done just the right thing.  And, they’re right.  What they don’t understand is that, just as I did today when I was at the end of my wits, praying is the natural reaction for every human being I know, when confronted by a brick wall in front of us.  When we get to the end of ourselves, we turn to the One we know understands, the One who can actually do something about our circumstances.  Prayer is an admission of sorts…an admission that we are powerless and that we need help.  The difference is that believers know to Whom they are speaking in those moments.

I’m not going to spend a lot of time and ink here contemplating the effects and the benefits of prayer.  There have been volumes and volumes written on the subject.  There are even scientific studies which have undertaken to prove or disprove the benefit of prayer.  Certainly, there are other facets to prayer than the emergency, crisis-mode pleas described above.  All I’m saying today is that, when confronted with these kinds of situations personally, I would be paralyzed without a way to communicate with my Creator.  And, I am grateful.

I’ve never been great at thinking on my feet.  I need time to consider, time to weigh, time to revise and extend.  Some situations don’t allow for that.  It is a good thing to have One nearby who doesn’t need the time, but simply the opportunity, to act.

We’re in Good Hands.

“There are no atheists in foxholes.”
(attributed to Ernie Pyle~American war journalist~1900-1945)

“Funny how it seems I always wind up here with you;
Nice to know somebody loves me.
Funny how it seems that it’s the only thing to do;
Run and find the one who loves me.”
(from “Rainy Days and Mondays~ performed by Karen Carpenter~American vocalist~1950-1983)

“You’re rich in love, and You’re slow to anger
Your name is great, and Your heart is kind
For all Your goodness I will keep on singing
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find”
(from “Ten Thousand Reasons (Bless the Lord)~performed by Matt Redman~British vocalist)

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As I took a “sick day” from writing last night, I found myself, while attempting to escape the concentration required in writing, reading from an old set of books containing the works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  It will be a long term commitment to complete all of the material contained therein.  My attempt to escape intense cerebral acrobatics failing miserably; I went to bed still with the headache which precipitated the evening off.  Regardless, I am happy to report that the late night study was not in vain.  I found myself surprisingly refreshed emotionally by, not only the poems I read, but also by the editor’s notes before each new grouping of selections.

Imagine my surprise (and delight) to read a note the poet himself wrote to his editor and included with a poem he was submitting for publication.  The note said that it was completed and prepared for submission at three thirty in the morning, and then finished with the words, “…and now, to bed.”  While I neither aspire, nor anticipate the opportunity, to achieve the greatness of Mr. Longfellow, I am emboldened in learning of his similar nocturnal literary labors.  For some reason, the creative flow in my brain seems to begin in the late night hours and continues on until the wee hours of the morning, but is virtually non-existent in the daytime.  I will count myself in good company as I continue my lonely toil through the time when most of my readers are abed.

I know that many consider the night a time of fear, of retreat behind safe walls (and for some, with good reason), but for all of my life, the night time has been a time of discovery and of education.  Certainly, there were times when I was a child that the darkness was a time for misdeeds and mischief.  The darkness offered cover for acts of meanness and trickery, and I took the opportunity more than once.  But the memories I have of learning and of awe in the darkness far outweigh those childish acts.

I have always had a love of reading and that love pushed me to spend most evenings after the sun set, and well past bedtime, deeply absorbed in any book I could get my hands on.  Some were read by the light of a luminescent praying hands nicknack which had spent the previous hours in the light fixture absorbing the energy needed to light up the space under the blankets.  Others were read while hiding in the closet and closing the doors to prevent the tell-tale beams from alerting the authorities downstairs.  The reading material was wildly varied.  Orwell’s “Animal Farm”,  Norman Vincent Peale’s “The Power Of Positive Thinking”, and “Jonathan Livingston Seagull” by Richard Bach were all read and questioned in the reading.  My reading material was usually considered in light of the Bible, which was also frequently on my reading list.  Then, just for fun, all of the Oz books were consumed by my fertile brain, followed by as many Tom Swift and Hardy Boys volumes as I could acquire.  I even read the Nancy Drew books, drawn to them after first reading “By the Light of the Study Lamp” by the same author.  The edition I read was one of the first 1930s era volumes, by then musty and brittle, but still fodder for a curious mind.  Books opened the path for imagination and the highway to learning.

There were a few nights that found me lying on the roof of the carport, the vantage point reached by crawling surreptitiously from the window in a dormer of the attic bedroom I shared with my brother.  Lying half on the flat gravel and tar roof, with my torso and head inclined onto the pitched shingles of the attached wash house, I reclined and considered the stars and the brilliant moon, imagining the possibilities that those vistas opened up to my young mind.

But, the music!  In those days of AM radios, sunset was the time when the low-powered local stations would go off the air and the “clear channel” stations would step up their power to beam to far-away places.  Exotic places like New Orleans and Chicago, cities only dreamed about in the hours of daylight, would stream their programs into my ear by way of the single ear bud, and I would be carried away.  On Saturday nights, from Nashville, the Grand Old Opry would bring the world of hillbilly and country music to me over the miles.  Then the stereo world of FM radio took my universe by storm, bringing such diverse styles as Deep Purple and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

It may be that I was just designed to enjoy the night time hours, or possibly a lifetime of breaking the rules has lead to this as a punishment, but I’m working at making the most of my opportunities.  I’m thinking that, as with many things, we needn’t be concerned so much with the peripherals, the time of day, the darkness, but with what we achieve with it.  Sleep is good (and necessary), and I do sleep.  But, I love the times of quiet and of space to dream and imagine, as well as to consider more serious and weighty matters.  And, the night has plenty of those times.

I found, as I read last night, some words that seem almost to be written to me and anyone who wants to impact their world.  In his “Voices of the Night”, Mr. Longfellow penned some autobiographical words about what influenced his work.  You’ll find an excerpt below.  The admonition to teach from our experiences and acquired knowledge seems to be apropos to our time, even though penned a century and a half ago.

And I can’t leave you without one slightly facetious thought that keeps intruding on my serious considerations.  My mind wants to leap to a verse in Ephesians that reminds us to take advantage of every opportunity.  The author of that book reminds us of the reason for his instruction…”Because the days are evil.”

“…and now, to bed.”

“Visions of childhood! Stay, O stay!
Ye were so sweet and wild!
And distant voices seemed to say,
“It cannot be! They pass away!
Other themes demand thy lay;
Thou art no more a child! 

 Look, then, into thine heart, and write!
Yes, into Life’s deep stream!
All forms of sorrow and delight,
All solemn Voices of the Night,
That can soothe thee, or affright,–
Be these henceforth thy theme.”
(from “Voices of the Night” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow~American poet~1807-1882)




“I will love the light, for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness, because it shows me the stars.”
(Og Mandino~American Essayist~1923-1996)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2012. All Rights Reserved

The old guys were back today.  The brothers have been coming in to visit me at the music store every month or so for awhile now.  If you didn’t know them, you wouldn’t think that they were nearly superstars once, not so many years ago.  I have seen them sporadically through the years, all the way from their arrogant, invincible youth, in the days when they played music with the best of the best and were well-known far beyond the reaches of this little corner of the world.  It may come as a surprise, but they weren’t always that nice to be around.  I wasn’t even sure I liked them all that much.

They kissed their wives and children goodbye and traveled for the biggest part of the year, repeating this for nearly a decade, coming back to divorces and troubled teens, finally realizing (almost too late) that there are more important things than fame and renown.  Even the dissolution of their family band led indirectly to more tragedy for this family later, but that is a story for a different day.

Photo: Andrew.Beebe

For the last several months, they have come by to see me and make sure that there is nothing in my music store that they can’t live without.  I’m happy to reminisce (and to take their money), but also to look to the future with them.  They recognize the follies of their former life and wish they could change more than a few exploits and harmful habits, but there is no going back there again.  That said, they are making a comeback, of sorts.  Their monthly visits coincide with the new music tour the band is on now.  Once a month, they play music for the old folks in the nursing home nearby.  It is, by their own account, more satisfying than playing for the crowds of thousands in the old days.  They report that the crowds are much less rowdy and more appreciative than were those other fans.  As we talk and joke, there is no arrogance, no sense of invincibility left, just an appreciation for the renewed opportunity to touch lives with music.  I like these guys!

As I thought of the path these fellows have walked, I couldn’t help but think of another young friend who is still headed the other direction on the road to stardom in music.  This young man is the guitarist for one of the top artists in Christian Music and rubs shoulders every day with some of the biggest names in the music business.  He took time from his busy schedule to stop by and see me the other day.  The difference between this young musician and many others I see is astounding.  We talked for awhile and, brushing aside compliments of his own amazing talents and without ever making a self-comparison, he had nothing but good things to say about a mutual friend who also aspired to make a mark in the music business at one time.  His demeanor is that of a servant, never bragging, mostly deflecting any praise away from himself and to those around him, or to the God for whom he plays.  This one, I have liked from the day I met him.

As we talked, he brought up the subject of his road schedule, thankful that he doesn’t have to spend too much time away from his wife, but cognizant of the need to keep a balance.  Although it’s clear that he has no intention of doing so very soon, he even mentioned an “exit strategy”, suggesting that he won’t pursue his career at the expense of his marriage.  I am amazed at the wisdom, having seen the “too little, too late” scenario played out too many times.

Being so involved in the music culture has led me to consider, perhaps more than most people, the paths and attitudes of different musicians.  I analyze and take apart the various approaches these folks have to life and performing and fame, and I’m not always happy with what I see.  It is easy to lose sight of the goal in the mad dash to the rewards.  The goal and the rewards are not the same thing.  You see, if you are a believer, becoming famous is not the goal.  Making a lot of money is not the goal.  The goal is turning the spotlight on the real Superstar, and focusing attention on Him through the medium of music.  There can be rewards in the meantime, but the objective must always be in sight or values will be compromised.  Winning the prizes and gaining the adulation of the crowd along the way aren’t necessarily bad, but if they cause us to waver in our resolve to finish strong, they have become burdens and distractions. Many, in achieving the rewards, abandon their original purpose and end up losing the race completely.  The cost, along the way, is often in lost relationships and people damaged, almost beyond repair.

As for me, I have no expectations (and no possibility) of being a superstar, so there is no worry about the adulation of the crowd along the road, but I do wish I had learned the wisdom of the young musician earlier in life.  Mine, while not as extreme as my old friends’, has been the long hard road of learning by my mistakes.  Like the old musicians, I will have to live with the consequences.  It is to be hoped though, that I have retained some of the lessons learned along the way.

I remember a few of them.  Perhaps it will be enough.

“Greatness is not found in possessions, power, position, or prestige.  It is discovered in goodness, humility, service, and character.”
(William Arthur Ward~Pastor and inspirational writer~1921-1994)

So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God.
(I Corinthians 10:31~NET)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Hiding in plain sight.  As plain as the nose on your face.  If it had been a snake, it would have bitten you.  Right under your nose.  The list of ways to say that something should be easy to see seems to be interminable.  So many things are in front of us and we are blissfully unaware.  A good friend of mine pointed out one such example the other day.

Photo: Dano

 How many times have you seen a similar truck drive past you?  Perhaps the better question is:  How many times each day do you see a similar truck drive past?  It is an everyday sight in most towns, as the drivers speed to commercial and residential destinations to make their deliveries.  The other thing I wonder is:  Do you see what is right in front of you?  Did you know that there is a message on the side of this vehicle?  It’s really not hidden and wasn’t meant to be a secret.  Oh, it was placed there purposefully, but the designers also purposefully didn’t make a point of telling you about it.  They wanted you to see it for yourself.

As I write, I can’t keep my mind from wandering to a most exceptional man in our country’s history, George Washington Carver.  He was an extraordinary man among his peers, an African-American who had risen from slavery, being redeemed from kidnappers for a horse at one time in his childhood.  He acquired something unheard of for one of his race in the late 1800s–an education, gaining a Masters Degree in Botany.  Carver spent most of his life teaching and experimenting and he is credited with the rise of the popularity of the peanut industry in the Southern United States, especially as a replacement for the cotton crops which were devastated by boll weevil infestations on several occasions.  He is perhaps just as well known for his work in discovering hundreds of uses for the little nuts and the oil they contain.  In spite of his own achievements, Mr. Carver gave credit to the Creator for showing him the secrets of the lowly peanut in this way:  “When I was young, I said to God, ‘God, tell me the mystery of the universe.’ But God answered, ‘That knowledge is for me alone.’ So I said, ‘God, tell me the mystery of the peanut.’ Then God said, ‘Well George, that’s more nearly your size.’ And he told me.” 

I wonder if you realize that somehow, this blog has done a similar thing with most of its posts, in a much less significant way.  Most of the posts you can read here utilize a story from life, either my own or that of someone I know, which makes a larger point.  The familiar often hides the profound, but with a little shove here and a small amount of prodding there, the truth is urged forth, to stand unveiled and powerful.  It is not my doing that the truth is there; I have simply managed a time or two, with no small amount of help, to be able to point it out. I’m pretty sure that most of life is like that.  The profound awaits discovery, hidden among the foolish.  We just have to be diligent in looking for it.

Federal Express?  Oh, yeah.  They designed their logo to do more than tell you their name.  It also tells you which direction they are headed.  Forward.  Look at the logo.  Do you see the arrow pointing to the front of the truck?  The negative space between the “E” and the “x”.   Ah, you see it now.  Forward!  It’s not only the direction the truck is headed, they want you to know that the company is moving ahead into the future, too.  There are many of you who had seen this already, but for the rest of you, I bet you won’t ever look at that logo the same way again.

That’s the way it is with the truth, when it is right in front of our noses, separated from the jumbled mess of life.  We grasp it, and we try to understand how to apply it properly.  Or, we can forget it and go on in much the same way we always have.  I’d like a serving of the former, thanks.  

Just as with the logo, whose creators intended that the truth should become plain to us, our Creator has done the same thing with all of His creation.  The truth is waiting to be found and applied.

It’s there.  Right under our noses. Hiding in plain sight.

“When you do the common things in life in an uncommon way, you will command the attention of the world.”
(George Washington Carver~American educator, scientist, and inventor~1864-1943)

“This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.”
(“This Is My Father’s World”~ hymn by Maltbie Babcock~American pastor and poet~1858-1901)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Sometimes, it is small comfort to be right.  Especially if you had the right idea but the execution was all wrong.  The mechanic smiling up at me from his uncomfortable position on the floor of the car was giving me the bad news.  “Yes, it was the clutch interlock switch all along, but you checked the wrong switch.  That’s why you couldn’t get it running.”  I managed a small smile to convince him that I wasn’t embarrassed at all.  I wasn’t successful in the attempt.

It all started a couple of weeks ago when the father of the four greatest children in the world asked me for a little help with his old car.  My son-in-law is gifted at what he does, but he stays away from the arena of auto mechanics.  Unlike my upbringing, he was not introduced to the application of baling wire and duct tape to various moving and/or stationary auto parts at an early age.  His father never did disassemble a starter motor on the dining room table to change the brushes or mount a new solenoid.  It was a skill born of necessity for us, not for love of the work, but owning old clunkers has inspired many hours of greasy hands and more than a few skinned-up knuckles.  I was game to give it a try again.

“The car won’t even click when the ignition is turned on.  Do you have any ideas?”  the young pizzeria owner queried.  With a couple of questions, I was pretty sure I had the problem narrowed down to two possibilities.  “It’s either the clutch/ignition interlock switch or a fuse.  There’s an open circuit somewhere.”  I spent a few minutes one blazing hot afternoon at the car with him, trying to narrow down the possibilities, but we didn’t have much time to spend.  “I’ll come back,”  I promised him.  It was another week before I could get to it.  For  a wonder, this time the temperature was more bearable and I had a few minutes more to spare.  Focusing on the clutch switch idea (the fuse option was easily tested and discarded), I spent a good bit of time removing the switch which was activated by depressing the clutch pedal.  I tested it with my ohm-meter.  It worked perfectly, opening and closing the circuit without fail.  Just to be sure, I inserted a jumper across the terminals and turned the key.  Nothing.  Disgusted, I laboriously re-installed the switch and checked one more thing–the current at the starter.  There was no voltage there when the key was turned.  My diagnosis was still accurate.  But, I had checked the obvious source and it was fine!  There must be a broken wire somewhere.  I couldn’t find any.

I finally gave up and sent a message to my mechanic friend, arranging to meet him at the car today.  He checked the same things I had, although much more rapidly.  Then, he removed a plastic panel on the underside of the dash, flipped through a wire or two, and searching around for something on the floor, picked up a short length of wire and stripped it quickly, inserting it into a plastic terminal with two wires going into it.  He turned the key.  The car started instantly! 

All of which brings us to the place we started, with the mechanic grinning up at me, and me, biting my lip in frustration.  The wrong interlock switch!  How ignorant could I be?

You’ve done that, haven’t you?  You know the answer to the issue.  The knowledge you’ve amassed over your lifetime all points to the correct conclusion.  You act decisively and apply the solution to exactly the wrong location.  The result is exactly the same as a complete lack of knowledge–Failure!  It is an all too familiar situation for me.  I have the capacity for knowledge about a wide array of subjects.  I love trivia and as a result, have a brain full of answers to many questions.  My downfall is the application of the solution.  I am gifted at understanding the issues, just not at solving them.  I have knowledge, but not much wisdom.

I found myself in another similar situation earlier today.  I was waxing eloquent with a few casual customers (meaning that they weren’t actually buying anything today) about the intricacies of copyright law as it applies to the performance of music.  I am not a lawyer, but have gleaned a fair amount of detailed information regarding the products sold in my business, so I felt qualified to expound on the issue.  I answered a number of questions the men asked, and it seemed to me that they felt enlightened regarding a subject they hadn’t considered much before.  Then I blew it.  One of the men mentioned an activity he carried out in his ministry, which was in violation of copyrights, as I understand them.  I suggested that it wasn’t appropriate for him to do this and he insisted he wasn’t doing anything wrong.  I persisted, as I am frequently wont to do, so by the time he left, he was angry at me and I was accusing him of breaking the law.  It wasn’t pretty.  And, it wasn’t productive.

You see, I know the facts about certain aspects of copyrights.  I simply am not skilled at helping others to understand and accept those facts.  It would have made sense to drop my argument when I saw that the gentleman was offended.  It was clear that there would be no benefit to continuing the discussion, but I saw what I believed was a wrong and was intent on fixing it.  Just like the switch under the dash of the car, I turned the wrench again and again, taking apart the wrong thing, only to realize, too late, that I was barking up the wrong tree.  I applied my knowledge without the slightest hint of wisdom.  I have apologies to make.

This is the point at which a wise man would leave off preaching and let the application sink in.  I’m not so wise, but I’m learning.  I’ve probably talked enough for one day.

My disappointment at not being able to conquer the Honda is abating.  Regardless of the person who achieved it, the car is repaired and my son-in-law has transportation again.  All’s well that ends well, yes?  I’ll have to pray for another chance with my friend from the music store.  Time will tell.

Wisdom is found in odder places than under the dashboard of automobiles…

“Sometimes I lie awake at night and ask, ‘Where have I gone wrong?’  Then a voice says to me, ‘This is going to take more than one night.'”
(Charlie Brown in the Peanuts cartoon~Charles M. Schulz~American cartoonist~1922-2000)

“If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men.” 
(Romans 12:18~NASB)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2012. All Rights Reserved.