Yesterday…

I got to go work on some horses at a ranch. Not just any ranch, but a real working ranch. A ranch that I as a younger man dreamed of working at as a cowboy. One of those kinds of ranches that you can stand in one spot and say something like…”all you can see in any direction…that belongs to me”…if you are the owner of course. Anyway my ramblings about this ranch is not the point of this yarn so I’ll move on.

As me and my #1 horse holder drove into this ranch I realized something that I already knew…the road that their entrance is on…its a county road! They built a gate with an overhead…over the county road! That’s how big this place is! Moooving on…

We pull in and I begin to set up my anvil and put my apron on, get out my roundin’ hammer, sharpen my knife (on my newly mounted super duper handy dandy D’walt grinders), chit chat a bit, then we get started.

First up a couple pulled shoes, a hoof in need of some epoxy, then on to the rest of the remuda…well not the rest but my part of them anyway. As I flatten the hoof on the first horse, shape the shoe just so it fits good and snug, it comes time to nail the shoe on. Now last week I put a new handle in my favorite nailing hammer. I have had the same handle in my hammer since I got it in 1995. ‘Bout two weeks after I got this favorite hammer a rogue stepped on it and cracked the handle…bad. But being the resourceful non-city boy that I was I got out my “duck” tape and “fixed it”. I don’t know that I have ever driven a nail with that hammer when it wasn’t held together by duct tape. Today would be the first day I would use the hammer with a new handle…I wasn’t real sure it would feel the same…or if I would be able to “feel” the nails. I might just hate the new handle and wish for my old one back.

The foot is flat, the shoe is shaped, I’ve got a mouth full of nails, and I reach for my hammer…

Now I have been sanding and customizing this hammer handle since I put it in, so I know what it feels like in my hand, but I haven’t driven a nail yet…this will be the true test.

I place the first nail in the shoe and I pick up my hammer…

WHAM!!!

I start driving the nails one after the other. The smooth, cool hickory wood in my palm feels nice. The sound of the hammer hitting the nail resounds in my ears. It swings very nice. Straight and true it slams down against the nail heads driving them in deep and snug in the shoes. This hammer feels amazing now! I am loving the way it feel in my hand, as it sings out it’s song steel against…whatever they make nails out of (I should google that). As amazing and smooth this hammer handle feels…it already carries scars. Let me tell you about these scars and how this handle came to feel so nice.

There is a box of hickory hammer handles of all sizes and lengths in the shop at the clinic, this handle “just felt right”. So the old handle was cut off, drilled out, hammered, gouged, till finally it fell out in a busted splintered mess on the dirty floor below. The fresh new handle was sanded on one end to make sure it fit in the hammer head, once it was close it was put in the head as far as it would go. Then a brass hammer was used to buffet the head till it was driven onto the new handle…causing the handle to peel away in some spots that were slightly larger than acceptable. After being driven in till flush with the top of the head the shims were placed. Two small wedges of steel are placed on the top end of the handle and driven down into the wood. This causes the wood to attempt to spread, with the steel head of the hammer surrounding the handle there is nowhere for the wood to go…so it is crushed, compressed, mashed, mushed and otherwise made tighter than an elephant in a phone booth. With the head securely in place I turn my attention to making the handle “fit” my hand. I will be using this for a long time and if it isn’t just right my hand will fatigue, making the day feel very very long.

This particular handle is fat, very round, and it’s hard to hold. But I can feel it’s potential to feel really good. My first handle was hand carved to fit my hand by an old man, since he isn’t one of my customers anymore I have to make this one fit myself. I can’t carve wood. But I know another way. I fire up the forge and let it begin to heat. When it’s good a hot I pick a pair of tongs and grab the hammer by the head and slide it into the fire. The sweet distinct smell of wood burning is in the air. The handle immediately begins to be consumed. I pull it out, a smoldering, black, charred hunk of wood. With a wire brush I begin to brush the burnt wood. The black soot falls to the floor and back into the fire the handle goes…

Over and over this is repeated till the handle is nearly perfect. Quenched in a bucket; a new tool is employed and slowly the last of the remnants of the unwanted handle is sanded off. Now the handle is the right size and fits my hand nicely, but it needs to be sealed.

The best product to seal a hammer handle that I have been told of is a green fluid that is found in automotive stores…Anti-Freeze. A handle soaked in anti-freeze will soak it up and after that it won’t absorb water. So I plunge it into this fluid that in the right hands can be deadly as poison. Yet here it is used to preserve.

Today I have a hammer handle that feels amazing, does it’s job very well, is easy on my hand as I drive nails. Yet it holds the scars of being driven in a spot not large enough for it, burnt by fire, infused with green poison, all to make it into the exact utensil desired.

That’s kinda how Yahweh does with us sometimes. We see constant failure in life…He see perseverance in the making. We see loneliness…He sees someone being groomed to stand alone in the gap. We see hurt and heartbreak…He sees someone being given a huge, unique, dose of  compassion. We see persecution and shame…He sees someone being refined by fire. Little bits of our old self being stripped away and cast aside in a pile of ash; spent and beaten we emerge a vessel worthy to be called a fellow heir to the Throne. Always will we bear the scars of the fire, the hammer of the Master as He buffets our soul. Refining us with every blow. Until we are made to fit His hand perfectly, to be wielded by the Master for His perfect purpose.

Until next time…

May your hammer always swing true, your nails always hold strong, and may the One who puts you through the fire heal your wounds swiftly as you are made anew.

The Crusader