I realized I dropped the ball, or maybe “dropped the spire” is a better metaphor for what happened here.
I wrote last summer how we found the perfect spire for our belfry when we went junking at “Wisconsin’s Finest” antique flea market in Elkhorn. The steel spire with Victorian era fleur-de-lis detailing had been salvaged from the turret of a decrepit late 1800s mansion in Vilas County, Wisconsin.
But I failed to show you how it turned out.
The junk spire required a bit of straightening. We had it sand-blasted before applying a few coats of rust-proof paint.
Tyler rented an articulating boom to provide safer access to the belfry forty feet off the ground. You-Can-Call-Me-Al enjoyed using the boom (it was easier on the legs than a ladder by far). He and Tyler accomplished some other repairs up there (Tyler remained on the ground), and early one clear Sunday morning, the spire was hauled up there.
I went to church that morning (a different, actual church with a worship service), and I specifically recall asking for protection for You-Can-Call-Me-Al. The good news is, he was fine and so is the spire.
The belfry, described as “rooted” when we bought the church, required three phases of improvements, but it looks (and sounds) beautiful now.
Now you know the rest of the story. The belfry is an exceedingly public result of the church’s renovation. Fixing it didn’t add a lot of value to the private residence, but I’m proud we pursued excellence and restored that historic bell tower to glory.
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“Every person is endowed with God-given abilities, and we must cultivate every ounce of talent we have in order to maintain our pinnacle position in the world.”
~ Ben Carson,
retired neurosurgeon currently serving as the
U.S. Secretary of Housing and Urban Development