A Carpenter's Love

The room smelled of sawdust and glue as the old man’s fingers worked magic into his creations. The room was dimly lit, but it didn’t matter because the man had been at his craft for so long he could do it blindfolded. Wood shavings seemed to fall off his objects at tremendous speeds. If someone were to look at the block of wood before he started his craft they would never have guessed it would become that which he would eventually hold in his hands.

He always knew though.

From the moment he picked up the 6-inch block of wood, he knew what the carving inside of it would become. He was always careful and meticulous as he carved his objects, making sure that every detail was correct.

Even though he knew what the carving would become, there always seemed to be something that would surprise him. Sometimes there was a small blemish in a block of wood, one that would leave a rougher edge on a certain side of the carving. Other times, one of the nicks he put into the wood would be deeper than another, and though it would eventually get fixed, the path to fixing it would create a certain smoothness to the spot of the nick.

The old man always loved what he did, and he held up every object with just as much love for it as the one before it.

*

One day the old man’s grandson walked into the small workshop as he was finishing up a project. The young boy stared up at what his grandfather was doing with a look of grand admiration. After some silence the boy finally said, “Grandpa, how do you do it? How can you so perfectly carve these creations?

The old man paused for a moment, thinking over the question, and finally answered, “Well, there are many tools that I must use in order to make them come alive. Sometimes these tools work well for the wood I’m carving them from, and other times they just don’t seem to work at all.”

His eyes turned toward some of his recent masterpieces as he continued, “Every object that you see in here was made in a different way, because none are they same, and all came from a different block of wood.”

The young boy thought for a moment about what his grandfather had said, though he didn’t feel as if his question was answered. In order to gain more insight, the boy asked another question, “So if you have certain tools for making all of them, what is the most important one?

The old man smiled, and looking down at his grandson said, “There is no tool that is the most important, because not every tool always works the same, or gets used the same amount, for every object. That is, every tool but one.”

Eagerly wanting to know his grandfather’s secret the boy blurted out, “Grandpa what is the most important tool?”

“ Love,” the old man said, “Without love every thing I create would be nothing more than a block of wood.”

“But how can you love something… that is nothing? Something that couldn’t ever possibly love you back.”

“Because it isn’t nothing to me. It is my creation. Something that I meticulously formed and molded, and even when it surprises me, I still love it. In fact, it is formed out of my love. Before I even start to carve it I know what I want it to become, and even the vision of what I hope for is loved unconditionally.”

The boy seemed to think about what his grandfather said. As he pondered over it, his brows began to furrow, and he said, “Grandpa, how can you love a block of wood unconditionally? It will never do anything for you.”

The old man let out a loud chuckle and said, “Son, it will never have to do anything for me. There is nothing a block of wood can give me that I don’t already have. But I choose to give it my love, and since the block of wood can’t give me anything in return, the love I give it will always be unconditional.”

The old man looked down at the craft he was working on, and slowly and methodically put the final touches on it. Then, turning to his grandson, he held the craft in front of him and said, “You know, this block of wood may never even know how much love I poured into it as I made it, but I loved, and continue loving it, all the same.”

The young boy smiled as his grandfather handed him the object he had worked so hard at crafting. After looking it over for a few moments, he looked up at his grandfather and said, “Well if you love it grandpa, then I will love it all the same.”