Whenever I hear the hum of equipment or see blueprints unrolled across a table, my mind drifts back to my first summer in seminary. With Kirkwood preparing to begin Phase Three construction for our Cedar Ridge Independent Living cottages this fall, I’ve found myself reflecting a lot on what it means to build—and the quiet spiritual lessons that come with it.

That memorable summer, I worked as a carpenter’s helper. My job was exactly what the title implied: I loaded nail aprons, ran back to the truck to fetch saws or hammers, and learned the art of patience. I worked alongside a skilled carpenter named James Lawrence, who drove in every morning from Newnan, Georgia, to our job site in Decatur.

Together, we were remodeling married student housing to make room for growing families. Most of the married student housing was made up of one-bedroom apartments. Our job that summer was to knock out walls, cut doorways in walls, and upgrade bathrooms and kitchens. I learned how to cut through cinder block with a circular saw, pour concrete forms, and (after one memorable mistake involving a jackhammer and my big toe) how to slow down and pay attention. Whenever we hit a tough problem, James would scratch his head and say it was time to stop and think.

On one of our first days, we ran into a real puzzle. We were starting at the unoccupied end of a building, but as James studied the blueprints, we realized the drawing showed the layout for the other end of the structure. The floor plans didn’t match. Rather than guessing or forcing our own plan, James made a simple call: he contacted the architect and asked him to show us the way forward.

Scripture reminds us in Psalm 127:1, “Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.”

In life, just as in carpentry, our blueprints don’t always align with the reality in front of us. We encounter unexpected obstacles, shifting plans, and moments that leave us scratching our heads. But James set a wonderful example for me all those years ago: when the plan isn’t clear, you consult the Master Architect.

These days, the only carpentry I do is helping my son with his older home. Just as I did with James all those years ago, I happily follow his lead as the carpenter’s helper, watching the love, attention, and care he pours into reimagining every room. That same intentional care is mirrored in the construction unfolding right here at Kirkwood, where our residents and their families are deeply considered with every phase. As dirt moves and foundations are laid for our new Phase Three cottages at Cedar Ridge, we are given an exciting reminder of growth, community, and fresh beginnings. True building takes time, care, and immense patience. As Kirkwood grows, may we continue to trust the Master Architect with every detail of our lives, knowing that He is framing something beautiful in each of us.

Peace,

Cary