The Carpenters Apprentice

The carpenters Apprentice

Pappa was working on his latest project.

A neighbour had ordered a large wooden bowl.

The wood he had chosen was beautiful pine. As he worked on it, the light shone through the open door, and the wood glistened.

I loved being in Papa’s space. I loved to watch him work with his hammer and chisel.

I always felt peace when I was near him. We didn’t need to talk. His company was enough.

The smell of wood, the feel of the carpet of sawdust on my bare feet, felt like home.

I interrupted Papa’s work with a question, “Papa, how do you make a bowl out of a tree stump?”

Without hesitating, he replied, “I chisel away everything that doesn’t look like a bowl” he winked at me, then carried on chiselling.

As he chiselled, curls of wood shavings dropped to the floor, making the carpet of sawdust and wood chippings thicker.

I longed to start making my own creations. I wanted to be Papa’s apprentice. I had watched him since I could walk. I was now 13years old. I wondered when the day would come that I could make something as beautiful as he did. I longed to see the same delight on customers' faces when they came to the workshop to collect their orders.

At the end of the day, I took the sweeping brush and began sweeping up the wood shavings and pieces of bark that had fallen to the floor. This was always my job. I often had to get on my hands and knees to brush into a shovel the tiny bits of wood that had got stuck in the cracks in between the slabs of stone on the workshop floor. I took delight in this somewhat menial job. The smell of the sawdust and wood chippings reminded me that this came from what my Papa was lovingly creating.

 I loved it when my Papa nodded his approval when he saw that I had made the floor clean, ready for the next day.

A few days later, I was back in my Papa’s workshop. The bowl was finished. He had sanded it until it was smooth, then stained it. He then had polished it. The bowl was beautiful and on the shelf, ready for the neighbour to collect.

On the worktop was a lump of wood. It looked like it had been part of a giant oak tree.

I wondered what my Papa was going to make from it.

Papa looked at the wood, then looked at me. He reached down and put his calloused hand on my shoulder and said, “Son, it is time.” He then handed me his chisel and hammer.

 They felt heavy in my hand, and I looked at them in awe. I looked up at him and said, “What am I to make Papa?”

“Let's practice first, let's see how you get on with the tools I have given you”, he replied.

“It's ok if you make mistakes, we all make them, as you use the tools, you may be surprised that something beautiful will start to form”

I smiled and said, “How did you know I was ready?”

He once again lovingly looked into my eyes and said, “My child, I gave you menial tasks, like sweeping and clearing the floor; you never once complained. You patiently and faithfully did the jobs I asked of you, you watched me work, and you kept company with me. If you hadn’t done those things, you would have never been ready”

I reverently moved to the table and began hammering and chiselling.

I almost didn’t care what the end product would look like; all I wanted was to be near my Papa and use the tools he entrusted to me.