The Right Tool for the Job

The Right Tool for the Job

Tongs. Sam shook her head: "What on earth do I need tongs for? I have a real problem here and tongs don’t exactly look like the tool I need, but that’s all I’ve got. Hmmm." 

Scratching her head, she forgot she had dirt filled garden gloves on. Brushing the loose dirt from her hair, she decided that just maybe she could make the tongs work.  

Outside on a great summer day, she was doing some pretty heavy yard work. There was not the slightest breeze moving the tiniest leaf. As she worked, she kept pushing her glasses up, but the more she worked, the sweatier the bridge of her nose got. Each time she pushed the glasses up, dirt and grass clippings smudged her face.  

Sam had a random thought about a favourite, but quite traditional uncle. Uncle James would surely correct her and tell her in no uncertain terms that ‘perspiring’ would be a much more polite term, and that she was getting quite dirty...not very feminine at all.

Regardless of what her uncle would have thought, she kept on with her task - to clear more garden space for future plantings.  Then, before she could push her glasses up, they skidded down her sweaty nose, landed on the lawn and slid into a very deep, but narrow, hole in the back yard. She sighed “I guess I’ve got some critters coming up in my back yard to visit."

“Even it I had a flashlight I couldn’t see how deep the hole is ~ I can’t even see two inches in front of my face. I am so near sighted! But now my glasses..... they’re gone!” 

By this time Sam was talking to herself, not even worrying whether anyone on the other side of the fence might be listening. “And all I’ve got is these tongs. Why on earth do I only have kitchen tongs handy? I guess I won’t be using these them in the kitchen any more. So here goes...” 

The first thing Sam was able to pull from the hole was a big fat worm. She looked around to see if there were any birds in the yard. Across the yard, up on the fence, a red-breasted fat fellow watched. She tossed the worm in the robin’s direction. “Here you go. Lunch.”  

Then, returning to her task, she thought she had her glasses in her grasp. She could feel the gritty feeling of the mud against the slippery hard feeling of the - oh no, the lenses! The very shock of scratching her lenses made her drop them again.  

“Carefully now. Probe just a little bit deeper. Now I’ve got hold of something - I think I've got the arm this time. Carefully....and slowly.. just pull a little bit more....gently now. They’re holding.” 

Sam stopped....took a deep breath and with just another tiny tug, she was able to reach them with her other hand. Phew! She sat back on her heels. Finally, I'll be able to see again. With  the garden hose, Sam rinsed her glasses off and dried them with the not too dirty tail of her t-shirt, then wiped her face and voila! 

“I can see again!”  

“Do not wait: the time will never be “just right”.  Start where 

you stand, and work with whatever tools you may have at your 

command, and better tools will be found as you go along.”

  ~  George Herbert

Authors note: **This story is from a writing exercise in January 2011. My subject was 'tongs'. I have done some revising from the original. A fun exercise.

Authors note: Edited November 18, 2023