Foundations

For the past few months, we’ve been working on the barn.  It has been slow and steady work but when we are done the barn will be good as new.  No, it will be better than new.  It will be transformed.  To say the barn was in a state of disrepair is an understatement.  I honestly don’t know how some of the walls were still standing or how the roof over two of the stalls didn’t completely cave in.  Years of not acknowledging the termite and water damage had left us with quite an overwhelming undertaking.  It isn’t that we wanted to neglect the building or didn’t have the skills to repair it; the truth is we just didn’t have the time.  Or maybe we didn’t have the drive to find the time to do more than apply band-aids to some very large boo-boos.   We were burning the candle at both ends.  Life was a blur of work, kids, and caring for Dad.  Little time or energy was left for us to do much of anything and we certainly did not want our free time to be filled with hard labor.

But covering up the flaws did not make them go away.  The roof still leaked.  The wall framing was still hollowed out from the work of hungry termites.  The weakened structure leaned causing the doors to not close properly.  The siding hung loose because the 2x4s it was nailed to were reduced to pulp.  One stall took on enough water that sheets of ice formed in the winter.  Fortunately, our herd was reduced to only 2 horses so there were plenty of stalls for them to choose from.  We knew that something had to be done and praying for a perfectly timed lightning strike and insurance money wasn’t going to be enough.  We needed much more than wishful thinking.  We needed motivation, discipline, and desperation to get the job done.

In December my dad passed away leaving me with an empty heart and an open calendar.  I opted to take the rest of the school year off from work to settle his affairs.  Hours of my life were given back to me.  At the same time Madison, an NYPD mounted police horse, was put into early retirement after losing sight in his right eye.  No longer deemed fit to patrol Times Square he was resigned to spending his days in his stall awaiting his fate.  We expressed interest in adopting him.  After all, we have the land and the room plus decades of experience.   If I had learned anything from my dad, it was that an individual’s disabilities don’t make them any less valuable.  My dad, even in his frail state, had a lot to offer.  He may not have been able to carry his toolbox but he had stores of knowledge that he could share.  Madison didn’t deserve the fate of the other retired horses; being turned out to fend for himself.  No, he deserved to be on a farm where he could be accommodated and appreciated.  This horse still has decades of life left to live and skills that shouldn’t be wasted.

In February we got the call, “Are you still interested in adopting Madison?”  Of course, the answer was yes.  We would be ready to welcome him once the snow and ice cleared (and the barn was repaired). We agreed that April 1st would be his move-in date. Talk about motivation!  We had a date set and we desperately wanted Madison, so the only thing we needed was the discipline to tackle the very big job of repairing the barn.  Our little work crew of four (me, my husband, son, and daughter) needed to make a plan if we were going to accomplish anything in the short amount of time that we had.  So we assessed the damage, made a list of supplies and ordered them, and organized the project into smaller manageable tasks.  And most importantly we had to stay dedicated to the process.

I could go on at length about the supplies we needed, the hours of demolition and cleanup, and the rebuilding process but it will make for a boring read.  Suffice it to say the new roof looks amazing and the new walls are sturdy.  I’d be lying if I said the process was easy.  I’d also be lying if I said other options didn’t come to mind.  We could have completely razed the barn and had an Amish shed dropped in its place.  We could have hired a crew to get done in a few days which took us weeks of weekends to do (and continue to do).  But there is a certain satisfaction in doing the repairs with our own hands.  Plus it doesn’t hurt that I have a husband who is strong and handy.  Perhaps the real reward comes from watching the transformation of the barn as it returns to its original state.  Originally it was renovated and expanded by a larger family work crew led by my Mom and Dad more than thirty years ago.  Now, through the hard work of my husband, kids, and myself, it is starting to resemble the building lovingly planned and built by my parents, uncles, and brothers (and other poor souls sucked into the project).  I remember those building parties as some of the best moments of my life.  I'm not sure if my kids will look back at our project with the same fondness.

Despite the ravages of time and nature, the barn’s base stayed strong.  That’s the important part because you can always build upon a good foundation.  I can’t help but wonder how this barn can be a metaphor for myself and so many of my loved ones.  After all who doesn’t require some sort of transformation, revitalization, or rehabilitation?  Whether it’s physical, mental, or emotional we can all use a little maintenance and improvement.

My barn from the outside looked fine.  But once you went inside you couldn’t help but notice the termite-riddled beams or the wet and rotting plywood of the roofing.    All that damage started because the first insect and the first loose shingle went unnoticed.  The problems grew all the while escaping my attention until the day the first hollowed-out 2x4 fell and the first drop of water splashed onto the stall floor.

That’s how it is with so many of us.  We allow the number on the scale to creep up by 5, 10, 15 pounds, and so on until we are left wondering how we allowed ourselves to get to this point.  We ignore our decline in stamina and constant shortness of breath until we have a heart attack.  We continue to judge and criticize loved ones until we are left wondering what happened to our closest relationships.  We continue to self-medicate with drugs and alcohol because we don’t want to live with our mistakes or pain and choose to deny the fact that we are destroying our future.  We berate our children for acting like us but we don’t model the person we want them to be.  We find ourselves buried in debt and continue to use our credit cards for retail therapy to only cry about not having enough money to pay the monthly minimum.  We, humans, are funny creatures.  We destroy what is most valuable – our health, our relationships, our freedom, and our futures – all for the comfort our bad or easy habits provide us. Finally, one day we decide that living like this is killing us.  It is then we are forced to decide whether or not we are desperate enough to summon the motivation to trade our destructive habits for some life-changing discipline. 

However, all the motivation and discipline in the world won’t be enough if we start with a weak foundation.  Some of us are extremely blessed to have a strong foundation but others need to strengthen or even build theirs before the work of demolishing the ruined and rotten parts of their lives can even begin.  This is the hard part because everything we have known is about to change (and change is scary).  But once we have a good foundation we can safely tear down the parts that are no longer serving us and then rebuild our lives from the ground up.

But what exactly makes for a good foundation?  That is a matter of opinion.  Is it smooth and uniform like poured concrete or is it like a stacked field stone that has been intentionally placed and layered?  Maybe it’s cinderblock, vertically strong, and modular.  My barn happens to have all three and all three are strong and sturdy.  I guess I can thank the builders for that, especially my Mom and Dad.  Thanks, Mom and Dad!  And just like those of buildings, our foundations vary too.  Do you derive your strength from religious faith or do you draw upon years of knowledge and experience?  Has your family provided you with the skills you need or were you left to figure things out on your own?  Or maybe you saw someone you admire and decided to try what was working for them.  It doesn’t matter how it was formed as long as it provides a sturdy base for you to build your life.  I have a Fieldstone foundation.  There have been so many people, experiences, and lessons that have added or removed stones.  The ones that fit stayed and the ones that didn’t add to the stability of the foundation were discarded.  It was a slow and tedious process but my foundation is rock solid and can weather whatever life throws at it. 

I’ve been pondering this for weeks and discussing it with some loved ones.  We all have so much damage that needs repairing.  None of us are immune to the wear and tear of life.  Some do a better job of covering it up.  Others just let everything fall around them.  But the people that impress me the most are the ones who see the damage, accept the damage, and decide to do something about it.  They don’t wallow in self-pity or despair.  They don’t wait for someone else to fix them.  A quick fix isn’t an option.  No, they rise to the challenge and take the steps to completely overhaul their lives.  I have so many wonderful examples of these people in my life but I will leave you with a few; the only thing they have in common is a strong foundation albeit different types. One person’s religious faith kept her strong through her struggles with cancer and financial despair.  Another person’s love of family and sense of humor gives her the strength she needs to overcome tremendous health and physical challenges.  And a young woman, whose foundation was never properly laid, had to figure out how to lift the low parts and fill any cracks only to rebuild herself up to be stronger and better than she could ever imagine.   Maybe what needs fixing on you isn't so extreme, but hopefully, your foundation is strong enough to support you while you make your improvements. 

Photo by Fred Couse