John is making a second pen for the chickens. It is not predator safe in that the hens can be there all night or lay eggs there but during the afternoon it keeps them in the yard. He was working on the deck and I joined him. He handed me a PVC pipe joint. 

"Feel how smooth it is? Rub it with sandpaper until it is rough, like this one." It seemed odd to me but I didn't question him. "The light resistant paint sticks better that way. It will increase the longevity of the pen from a year or two to ten."

It reminded me of ceramics, when the teacher said to rough up edges before a join. With a clear task before me I scraped away. My mind wandered to the notion of how life roughs us up. Problems show up like sandpaper, scraping at our smooth plans. 

The two girls my twins were having a picnic with each had a parent dealing with a health issue. I prayed as I rubbed, sending healing thoughts in their directions. 

Then I remembered the latest workshop I attended about engaging Benjamin in manual work. I called to him to come outside. 

"Here, Ben, help us rub sandpaper on these joints." He complied.

"What is sandpaper?" He likes to collect definitions the way his brother collects game cards. 

"Sandpaper is what you use on wood to make it smooth, but we are using it to make plastic rough...." I was suddenly confused. 

John tidied up the oxymoron for Ben while I kept thinking about my friends.

Some of the most abrasive circumstances that have come my way have indeed softened me. Health problems in the past have increased my empathy for friends now.  Certainly being Benjamin's mother has helped compassion to stick better than it would if my life were smooth.

Maybe the Carpenter has a plan for me that extends beyond today.