David’s Two-By-Four
I spent the whole morning yesterday on the roof of the new building our church is constructing. It’s a “little cottage in the woods" kind of thing. Maybe I'll post some pictures when it's done.
Of course, the question you may be asking is “What the hell were you doing on the roof?”
It’s a fair question and one my wife has been asking me since she heard about my close call.
If you’ve read some of my older pieces, you might remember David Kramer from one of the Elliot stories. Jennifer and David Kramer almost ran out of our church the night their son bit Elliot, but Carol nailed herself into the road and wouldn’t let them pass.
The Kramers still attend our church, though sporadically. Their marriage has been “on-again off-again.” They've had some close calls, but someone has always been there to keep them from going over the edge. Someone always helps them see a reason to keep trying.
David is a roofer with very rough hands and rougher ways. He spends his days working alone in the brutal South Texas sun. He’s a hard worker and a hard man, but he’s got a soft heart, almost like a baby's heart, I'd say.
When I heard that David wanted to put the roof on the new building, I impulsively volunteered to help him. Our construction manager, who is also a church member, looked over the top of his glasses at me with a dubious smile.
Anyway, that’s how I came to be on the roof of a very tall building yesterday. We have a nine-pitch roof, which is quite steep. If you fall you drop eighteen feet onto jagged piles of the limestone we're using for the exterior walls.
Welcome to David Kramer's world.
David scampered about like a mountain goat, but I scrabbled around on all fours like a crab, clinging to anything that would keep me from sliding off. Here and there David nailed two-by-fours down for purchase. These became little oases of safety for me. I would crab-walk my way to one of these boards and hate it when I had to move on.
For two hours I crawled around trying to help but too frightened to stand up. I was very awkward, like the people who go down ladders facing out. David was talking to me the whole time, spouting esoteric roofing wisdom in short Confucian bursts.
“Respect the roof, but don’t fear the roof. Fearin it can get you killed.”
At one point he commanded me with Christ-like authority, saying, “Don’t be afraid. Stand up and walk.”
I stood and I did walk. I did walk on a 9-pitch roof, and I felt proud.
During a water break, we got to talk a little. He said, “You remember the night Jr. bit Elliot all up?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Well, he’s doin better now since we been at church. He ain’t bit no kids. Plays with em better too. We ‘preciate the help this church has done.”
He was trying to tell me something, but I was too preoccupied with my fear to hear him.
And then I stepped on a patch of sawdust and fell. My feet shot out behind me, dumping me on my knees and my face. I rolled onto my back as I slid, my heels ripping a swath though the tarpaper as I frantically tried to dig in.
David's voice called out without panic, "Catch hold-uh that two-by-four."
Sliding on my bottom, I was stopped near the edge of the roof by the board he had anchored with his strong hands. Bleeding and disheveled, I looked up at David, but he was already back to work.
At that moment I understood that David’s work was his way of saying thanks. Some dear people nailed themselves to the deck when David and Jennifer were going over the edge. He was just returning the favor in his own way.
With my feet on that two-by-four and my heart pounding, I laid my head back on the roof to catch my breath.
David, I think we’re all even.
rlp
8:52:46 AM 
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