Mud, Mercy, and Moving Forward

As the ice finally began to melt, the property transformed into something only Northeast Texas can produce.

Mud.

Not just any mud—red clay mud. The kind that sticks to your boots, clings to every surface, and turns the ground into a slippery, stubborn mess.

Water stood everywhere as the frozen ground slowly released what the storm had left behind. During the day, the temperatures climbed back into the 50s, but the early morning hours were still brutally cold. And the wind made it feel even worse.

The framers were ready to return and get things moving again.

But life had other plans.

I received a message from the lead framer’s wife explaining that their entire family had suddenly fallen ill—strep, influenza, and even a trip to the emergency room. My heart immediately went out to them. Hearing that news, I felt torn.

Part of me was disappointed at yet another delay. We had just lost two weeks because of the ice storms, and momentum had finally been building again.

But the health of their family mattered far more than any construction schedule.

I told them exactly that.

Stay home.

Get well.

The house could wait.

(I wished I had my kitchen back. I would have loved to take them a meal and help in some small way.)

The lead framer had also explained that he didn’t want the crew continuing the work without him. They were entering a critical phase—setting the roof and the gables—and he wanted to be there to oversee it personally. So I assumed the property would stay quiet for a few more days.

But the next morning, to my surprise, a group of framers showed up anyway.

Before long, they were already on top of the addition, working on the roof.

I was excited to see the progress begin again—but I was also concerned they might be pushing too hard to keep the project moving without their leader present.

Communication that morning was a bit of a challenge.

Many of the crew members are Spanish-speaking. While I know a handful of words, I would describe my ability less as Spanish and more as Spanglish. They have been incredibly kind about it though—often telling me I have a great accent. (Lol.)

But that morning, despite our best efforts to understand each other, something just didn’t look right with what was happening on the roof. I tried explaining what I was seeing. They tried explaining what they were doing. But the message simply wasn’t landing.

Finally, I called my general contractor, who in turn contacted the lead framer. I didn’t want to create unnecessary stress for a family already dealing with sickness, but I also couldn’t allow something to be built incorrectly and have to be torn down later.

I stepped away and left the conversation in my contractor’s hands.

But when I came back outside a short while later… things still didn’t look quite right. It was such a difficult position to be in. I hated questioning the crew’s work, yet I knew I couldn’t let the construction continue if something was off.

Another phone call was made.

Instructions came through.

And the adjustments began.

Feeling relieved, I went back inside to work at my computer. A couple of hours later, I stepped outside again—and there he was.

The lead framer himself. Standing on the roof in the bitter cold, directing the crew.

My heart sank. I hated that he had come out in that weather while his entire family was sick. I was so concerned about him that I even called his wife, asking her to please remind him that his health was far more important than this job.

Meanwhile, I was outside speaking to the crew in my best attempt at Spanglish, explaining how important it was that he take care of himself.

They nodded politely.

Then shrugged.

He was the boss.

And he clearly intended to be there.

When I looked up at him, he simply grinned at me and kept working.

His wife later reassured me that he had come because he wanted to—not because he felt pressured.

He stayed for a few more hours, guiding the crew and making sure everything was set correctly.

And just like that, things were finally back on course.

Thankfully, there were no setbacks to his health. Within a short time, he and his family were on the mend.

I was incredibly grateful. Grateful that the house project could continue. But even more grateful that God had answered prayers for healing and protection over this family.

This journey of building My Father’s House has been filled with unexpected challenges—but again and again I’m reminded that it has also been filled with something even greater.

People.

People who show up.

People who care.

People who work hard, even when circumstances are less than ideal.

And a God who faithfully carries each step forward.

God is so good.