I wasn’t a “Fix-it Franny.” My brain was not wired to see a solution to broken kitchen drawers or ailing appliances. Growing up, the men took care of all such nonsense with little help from their women folk.
Now that maturity dawned, my husband and I, on fixed incomes, found ourselves in need of providing our own home repairs. Neither of us cherished the idea but necessity meant we took on the challenge.
My mate designated yours truly with the task of repairing our kitchen fluorescent light since patience is a difficult virtue for him. Surely, some helpful genius could have invented an easier installation of their awkward tubes.
I started with the removal of the plastic casement, a chore in itself. Creaking and cracking noises did not reassure me as I attempted to squeeze the outer edges of the cover from its wooden frame.
“Please, Lord, help me not to crack it,” I begged.
Finally, it was off, nearly slipping out of my hands as I lowered it to the counter. I was balanced on a kitchen chair, straining my neck to look up at the middle container holding unknown wires and mysterious entities. I decided to leave this scary-looking receptacle alone as long as possible.
Banking the unknown object, on either side were two longish tubes, either non-functioning or on the verge of it. Occasional flickers emanated from the far left lamp, while the middle two were D.O.A. The far right one felt warm and emitted a faint glow, as if hanging on by a thread.
Surely there was a correct method for removing the tubes. I went for it and grabbed the far right one, only to learn that it was held in by a circular socket which required an unscrewing motion for removal.
Okay, let’s see. Righty tighty, lefty loosey. What gives? Why isn’t it coming out?
At last, I had denuded the light. Now, to replace dead and dying tubes with fresh, new ones.
The inflexible tubes needed to fit inside the tracking, but how? I began to experiment with holding tubes at angles after attempting to force their stubborn ends within the frame. I feverishly willed their metal prongs to hop the barrier. As I held my arms above my head, my exhaustion factor grew while my patience level fell to an all-time low.
I started praying in earnest, “Lord, You know what to do. Show me, please.”
Suddenly, I saw in the tracking, if I looked oh so closely, a tiny opening in the corner. I had my first tube screwed into the socket! I jumped down from my perch to do a victory dance and praise the Lord.
No matter how many ways I twisted and turned it, the last tube refused to comply. Finally, after a little finagling they were all in place. The outer two shone brightly, but not the middle two. Oh well, at least we have light.
The next afternoon, my perky spirits plummeted upon turning on the light and seeing not a glimmer. I’d have to ask my husband to help.
The following day, I got started unloading the tubes. I let my husband know it was ready. He felt we probably needed to replace the ballast. So that’s what they call that thing.
After he had checked out the wiring and recorded the placement of different colored wires, he sent me to the hardware store to purchase two new ballasts.
When I returned, after turning off the electricity, we began our bulb replacement. Standing on two kitchen chairs facing one another, we took on the scary task. Yellow, white, black, blue and red wires each were fastened into their proper outlets. I prayed silently for his success while standing by, but when I ran to turn on the power, no light appeared.
My hubby felt frustrated but said we would tackle it tomorrow. If it didn’t work then, we were destined to call a repairman.
The next day he stripped the main wires attached to the power and reattached them. Once again, I sped downstairs to turn on the electricity. But what is my husband yelling about? They are already on?
Part of me wanted to celebrate our finally fixing the fluorescent light, while the other part rejoiced that we didn’t get zapped. I obviously hadn’t turned off the right power switch. Either way, it was a win-win situation.
I looked up at the lights beaming, while doing the same in satisfaction. What was impossible with men was possible with God. He showed us how when we didn’t have a clue. I may not be a “Fix it Franny,” but I could make a light shine with God’s help.
Dianna
Sharing the Fruit of Maturity
