Lance carefully positioned his nail gun on the baseboard and squeezed the trigger. Well, it was Cody’s nail gun, because his was still at Bloom’s Farm. He couldn’t bring himself to go back to pick them up. He had walked out on Daisy, and with every errant thought of her, Lance was regretting it. Daisy’s text message had stung, but he was also relieved she wasn’t waiting for him. He was still so upset he wasn’t sure what he would say. Work at Rocky Trail was way ahead of schedule since his entire crew had been working there for a full week, instead of spread out at two other jobs.
It was too many people, and he’d already sent home the subcontractors. But his main crew? They needed work. It was the holidays and the last thing he wanted to do was send them home without a paycheck. As a child, Christmas cheer tended to ebb and flow with the construction economy. While he couldn’t overcome the cyclic nature of the market, Lance would do everything possible to ensure his business was consistent and viable. Which is why he’d spent so many years building up a base of repeat clients and a solid referral business.
Of course, having to completely stop work on two projects right before the holidays was potentially devastating to his reputation. One of the clients was an investor who, while he hadn’t been happy, knew Lance would do everything in his power to fix it. Quickly.
The other wasn’t being quite so understanding. They’d already threatened to bring in another contractor to finish the job and to tell all their friends about the negative experience. Lance had an appointment at the county tomorrow with a friend who could hopefully work things out. If he couldn’t? Lance was in a heap of trouble. His business was comfortable and he had decent savings, but he couldn’t afford to keep paying his crews if the jobs started disappearing. Daisy said she would fix it, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath.
Cody positioned the next piece of trim and Lance shot three nails along the length to secure it. “Where’s your head today, boss?”
Lance glanced at him and shot another nail, “Huh?”
“I said, where’s your head at? Because it definitely isn’t here.”
Lance shook his head, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m still struggling with this whole permit issue. I’ve worked my tail off for ten years to build this business. And now? Everything comes to a complete halt because Daisy couldn’t keep track of a stupid piece of paper.”
“Is that all?”
“Of course it is.” Lance rankled at the question. What else could there be? His company was being threatened, and it wasn’t his fault.
Of course, that’s probably how Daisy felt too. But it wasn’t the same. Her business wasn’t even up and running yet. Matthews Construction was his livelihood. After growing up with a single parent and lean times often overshadowing the better? He couldn’t stand to see his business struggle.
“If you say so,” his friend responded.
Cody was probably right. It wasn’t just the business. It was Daisy, too. And the fact that he wanted simultaneously to wring her neck and beg for forgiveness. Lance sighed. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be difficult.” He stood and stretched. “I think I’m going to take off. You’re right, I’m probably doing more harm than good being here.” Lance said goodbye and headed to his truck, unsure of where to go.
Lance drove without a destination, surprised when he found himself on his father’s street. He pulled into the driveway and made his way up the familiar wooden steps he’d climbed as a child.
“Dad?” he called as he walked in.
“Lance, is that you?” his dad responded before peeking his head around the corner. “Hey, son. Was I expecting you?”
Lance waved a hand before pulling off his boots and coat. “No, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
With a smile his dad replied, “Well then, alright. Come on in.”
“How’s your knee?”
His dad hobbled down the hallway ahead of him. “Oh, it’s alright. Already better than it was before surgery, it seems. Even though I have to use this blasted cane everywhere I go.” When they settled in the living room, his father’s eyes turned to him. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to torture it out of you?”
Lance smiled weakly and pulled off his baseball hat. “Have you heard from Daisy at all?”
A wrinkle formed on his father’s forehead. “No, not since before Thanksgiving. Why?”
Lance started to explain how after Thanksgiving he and Daisy became something more than friends. His dad’s glee was barely disguised. When he explained about the inspector stopping by and harassing them, anger flashed on his dad’s face.
“That seems ridiculous,” Greg slapped the arm of the chair.
“The kicker is that last time, he asked for Daisy’s permit. She, of course, couldn’t find it and he shut the whole thing down.”
Greg winced. “Yikes. I bet Daisy was fired up about that.”
“I’m sure she was, but I was a little preoccupied. Because he shut me down, too. All my jobsites where the permit was county-issued.”
His dad’s eyes grew wide. “I’ve never heard of the county doing that before. The permits are basically a formality. This isn’t Indianapolis!”
Lance agreed and he told him his plans to meet with his friend tomorrow. “It’s really bad, Dad. I’ve got crews to pay, and they can’t work, which means I can’t get paid. Everything I’ve spent my career working for is about to disappear and I’m kind of freaking out about it.”
“Hey, hey, calm down. It’s going to be okay, you know that, right?”
Lance shook his head, “Easy for you to say. You didn’t see how giddy this guy was to shut down my projects. He’s not backing down that easily.”
“It doesn’t matter. You are forgetting something you should have learned a long time ago.”
Lance raised his eyebrows and waited.
“You’re forgetting who is really in control. It isn’t the inspector, and it sure as heck isn’t you.” His dad leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “God’s got this. And until you start trusting Him instead of yourself, you are going to be miserable.”
Stunned, Lance sat back against the couch. Was his dad right? Was Lance trying to control everything instead of trusting God? He prayed, and he read his Bible. Well, sometimes at least.
“I’m speaking from experience, son. I can’t tell you how many times God had to teach me this same lesson when you were young.”
What was it like while Lance was growing up? “How did you do it?”
His dad laughed lightly, “I didn’t have much of a choice. You were everything to me, and trying to provide a good life for you took everything I had—and more. The only way I made it was by recognizing that God is good, and He had it handled.”
A quiet moment passed before Lance spoke again. “I’m not sure how to do that.”
Leaning back in the chair, his dad replied, “Well, a good place to start is to ask Him to help you figure it out.”
Maybe his dad was onto something. There was no one Lance admired more than the man who sacrificed everything to raise him. It seemed impossible, though. Every muscle within him was screaming to fix it and scolding him for dropping the ball and being irresponsible. It was up to him to save his company, because it was his own fault it was in trouble. Daisy may have lost the permit, but he lost focus on his goals.
Was it wrong to think he could control it? Did God really care about his little home renovation company anyway? Deep inside, the answer came—God loved him, which meant God cared about what he cared about.
If his dad was right and Lance needed to give control to God, it wasn’t going to be easy. Lance was a self-proclaimed control-freak. Despite his father’s dedication, his underlying fear of instability came from being abandoned by his mother and being a financial burden on his father. He never wanted that instability again.
He couldn’t guarantee insecurity would never come though. There was always the potential for business to dry up—the market could tank tomorrow. Or, he could get sick and all his finances be dumped into medical bills and prescriptions. The barrage of potential problems terrified him. Lance had worked his entire life to create a safety net. But it would never be big enough, even if he won the lottery. Money couldn’t save him.
Lance said a distracted farewell and went back to his truck.
Maybe his dad was right. Lance needed something bigger than the problems of this world. He needed to trust in the God he professed to believe in. It seemed a funny thing that belief and trust could be so closely linked, but feel so radically different.
Lance believed in Jesus, but he had never truly trusted God with the details of his life. He was too busy trying to control it himself. That needed to change—starting now.