I saw the truck and assumed it was someone stopping by to pick up tools from our back yard where they’d been clearing grass and weeds so our porch could be extended.
I yelled at John, “They’re back. Probably to pick up their stuff. Why don’t you go talk to them.” Translated: Can you get a date for when they plan to start?
Not something he wanted to do. He was preparing to head to work. I wasn’t going to check because I refused to deal with the issue. Justifying my suggestion and inactivity, I yelled, “Gotta leave soon!”
I’d tempered my anticipation for quite a while so I wouldn’t expect too much. We’d been waiting almost a year for this porch, and I didn’t want to be disappointed. Again.
John smiled graciously as he went out the door.
He came back in, surprised.
“Is everything ok?”
He nodded. “They just posted all the permits. They can start. Anytime.”
I walked outside in total disbelief. The truck had left, but on our tree was the DOCBOX, the place where all the permits find a place to live when work is being done on the outside of a home. The county requires this; everyone follows the letter of the law on this–failure to follow procedure could have them undo what you’ve done.
What it meant was they could actually start on our porch. All permits had been pulled, all permission had been given, all the necessary offices had been made aware of and had agreed on the intended building.
This is the promise they will start.
In the near future.
Promises are funny things. Everyone makes them; not everyone keeps them. I do trust the man who is doing the work on our porch–he had a dickens of a time getting all the permits necessary for expansion. I knew he wasn’t the one putting us off. He was being diligent to pursue what needed to be done.
He was the one, however, I blamed for broken promises.
It’s not like I haven’t broken promises. I’d promised our kids years ago we could get a dog. John wasn’t all in–so I waited till he left town to get one, figuring he’d fall in love with the dog if he just gave it a chance. Keeping the promise to my kids made me compromise my honesty with John. Not something I was proud of.
I’ve made promises to my sisters, telling them I’d be more intentional about coming to visit now that Mom is gone. She’d been the reason for us getting together for so long. With her not there, it’s too easy to put off following through.
I’ve made promises to friends about keeping in touch. Life happens, I get busy, and that promise falls through the cracks.
The only One I can really count on for being totally faithful to keep His word is God. He alone ALWAYS follows through; maybe not in my timeframe, but He consistently does what He promises in a timely manner. The good work He’s begun in those who know Him will be completed.
My DOCBOX of promises given? It’s called the Bible.
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