Daddy's Resourcefulness

 

Growing up, I don’t think I ever saw my Daddy stumped by a problem. He could fix anything—from a tractor that wouldn’t turn over to a squeaky door hinge that drove Mama crazy. He had a knack for looking at a problem, scratching his chin for a moment, and then figuring out some clever solution out of thin air.

 

One Sunday afternoon, our toilet started leaking. Now, back then, hardware stores didn’t open on Sundays, and Daddy knew that if he waited until Monday to fix it, the five of us would be in for a long and miserable evening. A house with no working toilet? Unthinkable.

 

So, he did what Daddy always did: he figured something out.

 

Unbeknownst to me, his “something” involved one of my favorite pairs of shoes—a soft suede pair of moccasins that I adored. Daddy must have eyed them sitting by the back door and thought, that leather will do just fine. He took one shoe, cut a small piece from the tongue, and made himself a washer to stop the leak. Toilet fixed. Problem solved.

 

The next morning, I was getting ready for school. I slipped into my hip-hugger bell bottoms, pulled on my peasant blouse, and went to put on my moccasins. That’s when I saw it. The tongue on one shoe looked like a mouse had chewed on it. I let out a holler that could’ve woken the dead, accusing my siblings left and right.

 

Daddy sat at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee, not saying a word. Just smiling to himself.

Mama turned around from the stove and gave him that look—one every Southern husband knows well. 

 

“What did you do, Honey?”

 

That’s when he confessed, grinning sheepishly. “Well, the toilet was leaking, and I needed a washer. I figured that leather was just right for the job. I cut it out where she could still wear the shoes. Nobody’d ever notice.”

 

Except, of course, I did notice.

 

I was mad for a while, but deep down, even then, I admired the way Daddy’s mind worked. He could take nothing and turn it into something useful. He didn’t need manuals or fancy parts—just a little bit of common sense and a whole lot of confidence.

 

Over the years, I’ve caught myself doing the same thing—improvising fixes, making do, and figuring it out as I go. Whenever I pull off one of my own “creative repairs,” I can almost see Daddy smiling that same quiet smile, coffee cup in hand.

 

I guess you could say he didn’t just fix things—he passed down a way of thinking. And I’ll always be proud to be his daughter.

 

Heavenly Father,

Thank You for the gift of resourcefulness, and for the simple wisdom You often hide in the hearts of everyday people like my Daddy. Thank You for the memories that remind me of his steady hands and his quiet confidence. Help me to carry that same spirit of faith, patience, and creativity into my own life. And when I’m faced with problems that seem too big to fix, remind me that You are the ultimate Creator—the One who can make something beautiful out of anything.

Amen.