A Roof Over My Head

Having a roof over one's head is something that most people take for granted. Most of us go home where our roofs protect from the sun, snow, hail, lightning, and other elements of the weather. Most people don't even worry about their roofs until there is a problem. I am so thankful that my mother and her husband have a roof that they are willing to share with me, because my unemployment checks do not provide me with enough income to pay for my own roof. A couple of months back, I was staying at their house (visiting while I still had a job as a flight attendant) and woke up in the middle of the night by a loud thunderstorm. It was a perfectly routine storm, with one tiny detail that worried me: a dripping sound inside my room. Now there have been two water spots on the ceiling of this bedroom for as long as I can remember. I'm sure they weren't there when my mama bought the house, but I can't remember a time without them there. Mama had known about them for a while. My stepfather Henry had known about them for a while. But no one worried, because the spots weren't hurting anyone. Well, after this big storm, we realized that something had to be done. My imagination went straight to the entire ceiling collapsing on top of me in the middle of the night during the next big rain. Luckily, my hysterical thoughts did not come to fruition, but there was another large water spot and another drip. Henry patched the roof up and called in the professionals.

This morning I awoke from my cough syrup induced slumber to loud bangs and clangs outside my window (yes, I am still sick). The roofers were here. "How am I going to sleep today?" I wondered. Construction noises are generally thought of as a nuisance. But then I remembered, the sound of roofing is beautiful. The ripping up of worn out shingles and replacing them with new ones that will protect us from the weather is a sight to behold. Professionals do this in such a way that it seems easy, but I know better. Some of my favorite times as a teenager were spent roofing houses with my church youth group. Coordinating a team of people to lay shingle after shingle, and have them do it right, is something that I appreciate more than ever. I have known for years how hard the work is: laboring in the heat on top of shingles so hot they burn your skin through your jeans, sweating the entire time that you are trying to line everything up quickly and perfectly, all the while managing to not fall off the roof. But now that I have remembered what having a roof means, the whole process is even more beautiful to me. Before, roofing was about working as a team with my friends and feeling good because we were helping others in the process. But   having a roof, a good roof, means that you don't have to be afraid of the ceiling collapsing and your valuables, whether valuable monetarily or sentimentally, will be ruined. It means not fearing for your life when the lightning strikes around you (which has also happened to me, but we can discuss that later). Having a roof means that you are not sleeping in the snow or wondering if you'll even have a place to sleep tonight. And I understand this now more than I ever have in my life. Cheesy, I may be. But thankful for being able to have a quality roof over my head, I definitely am. So I don't mind the sound of the men hammering away above my head and outside my window as I am trying to take my afternoon nap. I'll just try to pretend that the rhythmic hammering and scraping and pounding of the nail gun is a lullaby. And maybe I'll take some more cough syrup...