Buried Barbs...

Buried Barbs…

Theology in the Trenches

by Kathleen Kjolhaug

Yard cleaning burst onto the scene as sun melted snow. Into the snowcapped grass I trod as behind the house lay a heap that needed going through, and I was in the mood to tackle it. Broken branches were unearthed, and just beneath them I spied barbed wire.

Dangerous play area, I thought as I began to tug at one piece. Up it came with little effort. Soon another piece was exposed, and another, and so it went for the next hour as I gathered the goods. Someone had obviously cut a larger strand into shorter pieces, and I was able to safely set it aside without having it recoil around me.

When all was done, only a light scratch had drawn blood. With no deep wounds to behold, I was beholding. Grabbing a large plastic bin, I managed to once again move the pile of barbs yet a second time without incident. Proud of myself, I wheeled it round the house and parked it for safe keeping which meant it would soon be part of the scrap metal pile growing near the barn.

I’d been so busy looking down, that by the time the area was reordered, I was able to look up to see yet another puzzling display of disarray. Right above the buried barbs, the nearby tree had grown up, over, and into the shed nearby making memory marks in the form of a good sized hole in the roof. Climbing up the underlying branches of this hidden landmark wreaking havoc, I managed to get a closer look. Sure enough, through the shingles and through the wood beneath them was a limb protruding wildly out of hand. 

Later that day as my husband and I gathered for supper, I made mention of the manifestation infesting the shed near our house. “Did you know that the branch of that tree has punched a hole right on top of that shed out back?”

“I haven’t gone back there to check things out for a while now, so no, I hadn’t noticed that.”

Pretty sure the limb on that branch was a solid six inches in diameter so the terminology, “for a while now,” was leniently used. Considering we don’t use that shed for much these days, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Now that the barbed wire was no longer lingering as a landmine, the possibility of getting a close up look might come sooner than later...was my hope.

“I’m gonna just chop that whole tree down anyway,” he slowly said as he just kept on eating.

Prouder than all get out I’d found the barbs and prouder than a peacock that I was able to point out my discovery came to a screeching halt as I watched him methodically finish his supper. I’d wanted an “OOOHH,” minimally an “AAHHH,” but truly, in his world it was no big deal…just another day on the farm. And so it goes…

Ephesians 4:15 offers a recap. “Speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of Him who is the head, that is, Christ.”

And so I did…speak truth that is. “Honey, I thought you’d be proud I found that wire. I thought you’d like the fact that I wheeled it round back for you to add to your collectables. I thought I not only saved you some work, but helped save you time by cleaning it up!” This hadn’t been his perspective. I had simply created more work he hadn’t planned on doing that day and his honesty was…well…honest.

“I am so sorry....” was all it took from each of us. We were a united front once again as there is always room to grow and mature in love…in Him.  Amen.