July 23, 2025: one of those days nothing goes right, at least with what we plan.
Haying, or trying, u-joint on the mower’s drive broke immediately on firing up the PTO. Not a single blade of grass was harmed.
Driving out of the pasture, trying to avoid packing the radiator with grass seed, I followed the path of yesterday’s mowing. I wrapped a windrow around the driveshaft beneath the truck. Cleaning off the wrapping, grass packed behind the powertrain seal going to the rear axles. There are two listed seals for the model of truck. Knowing this truck, whatever is listed is most likely the wrong one—it is a strange truck. We grab both seals—neither are right; and looking up the VIN number, it will be two days before the seal comes in.
Replacing the u-joint, mid-assembly, I’m drawn from it to aid another. I help—I do not see or feel a single pin fall from the u-bolt housing. Assembling, it doesn’t fit right. Trying to correct, I break the new u-joint. I cut my finger open on metal shards on the driveline housing.
It was one of those days when nothing goes right, at least that on my priorities to do.
So I did what I could as adversity afforded. Needing parts in town, before going, I picked cherry tomatoes for my grandfather. He eats them like candy.
My wife is putting on a summer art camp at the local Boy Scout’s den. They are having an “art show” over lunch, and my youngest son made a handwritten invitation on our bathroom counter that I read the night before while brushing my teeth for bed.
I go.
It is amazing and special—to see his works, to see my wife in her element and mode of genius, to see all the proud and excited kids, to see the parents just as kids.
Adversity and breakdowns—they were neither curse nor damnation; they were opportunities, gifted moments in time affording chance to do what in heart I desired to do.
I’ve wanted to bring my grandfather tomatoes for a time. I had the time.
I wanted to see my wife and her camp and our son and his works. I did.
Day ending, driving home, I fixed a mailbox laying over on the ground.
Monday, I hit it with the hay mower. I thought I was far enough from the shoulder—I was not. Making it to the farm, I drove back and knocked on the door. I told them what happened. They told me not to worry about it and that they’d get it fixed—tie it to to a t-post if they needed. Two days later, it was still as mower left it.
I brought a shovel. I brought a t-post, and post driver. I dug a hole, leveled the post, tamped and packed the earth around. I fixed a problem and burden I’d made for another that they had not the time to fix. I had the time. I fixed the problem.
It was one of those days when nothing went right; but rather than staying fixed and focused on the problems. I shifted to actions and decisions I could control.
Nothing went right—at least not with the hay. But a lot of good still came.
Adversities and breakdowns were not problems. They were gifted blessings to do what I knew I should and wanted to do.
Making use of blessing—I lived the Good I could.