Twenty-five years ago I started carving a walking stick out of a six-foot piece of walnut. I first turned it out on the lathe, and then started carving a blend of several Old Testament passages that reads, “If You Will Walk In My Ways And Follow My Statutes Then I Will Be Your God And You Will Be My People And It Will Be Well With You.” I got really ambitious and decided to carve the text using a raised Old English font.
Well, it took me eleven years to get through, “ . . . My Statutes Then I.” At that point our young family moved to a small farm that soon captured every waking moment of our days. The carving went on hold for the next fourteen years.
Almost a year ago we decided to move off the farm to a much smaller house and property. Having given up maintaining fencing, mowing acres of grass, and fixing one thing after another, I found myself thinking about finishing the walking stick. Sadly, however, the task had morphed from a joyful challenge into a job to get done.
Thinking about how quickly I could wrap up the project, I launched into carving the next word. “Will” was not fun to carve. The thrill was gone . . .
Last night I went back into the shop and prepared to carve the next word: “Be.” All of a sudden it hit me like a ton of bricks: I don’t know how to “be” anymore. I lost the ability to slow down and “just be.”
At that moment, I hit the reset button, sharpened my chisels, put on some relaxing music, and began to carve. Slowly and out of nowhere a joyful smile found my face. A tinge of delight in the detail took me by surprise.
As I carved, a number of phrases began floating through my soul. “Always be humble and kind.” “Be compassionate.” “Be content.” “Be anxious about nothing.” “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)
I am slowly learning to be again. Just be.
– Sam Augsburger
