Be Thou Our Vision- Timber Frame Raising 2011

{This is a beautiful retelling of a glorious day we were honored to be a part of about a month ago. This post is very long (just the text was 9 pages!), but so worth the read. ~Olivia}
Be Thou Our Vision
By Emma Howard

April 11, 2011

            My Daddy returned to the house after traveling for ten hours from North Carolina in the pouring, pounding rain. The minute he stepped on our porch the power went out. His luggage had to be passed over a chasm in the washed-out road. Thanking the Lord for bringing him back just in time, we eagerly queried Daddy about his trip. Gladly, he told us all about the work he and seven other men from our church had accomplished while away. They had constructed a sixteen by twenty foot timber-frame structure, held together entirely by friction and secured with pegs. 

           An inspiring vision stood boldly behind every groove they had cut and every post they had shaped. A vision to construct something that will last for generations.  Like the great cathedrals of the Old World that have lasted for generation upon generation, our structure is intended to last so that our great-great-great grandchildren may ask “Dad, why is this here?” And by the grace and faithfulness of God may that man answer, “Son, your great-great-great grandparents left the cultures and regions where they had spent most of their lives to come here and establish a church. In that church they desired to glorify God by truly being able to serve one another. They wanted to show the love of Christ to each other and to the world on a daily basis. 

           But they knew that it couldn’t simply begin and end with them. Their children and their children’s children had to continue the work that they had begun; otherwise it would have all been in vain. So they built this pavilion, in an old-fashioned way, a way that was meant to last. They wanted it to stand here as a reminder to you and me, years and years after they had all gone home to the Lord, to love one another and to fight the good fight. To love God with all of our heart, mind, soul, and strength and to carry on the work of the Lord.” Meant not only to be a sign of multi-generational faithfulness, like the twelve stones on the side of the Jordan, but also a reminder of the community life God’s people should enjoy, the timber-frame pavilion represents a host of little stories that unite to create a beautiful, satisfying, and memorable event. 

            Jacob Lingo and Caleb Lovett had nearly finished the final bent. On Saturday, March the nineteenth, they, as well as two familiar visitors, John Creath and Jeremy Beech, began hauling the pieces of the first bent from the Souds’ workshop over to the Lingos’ house site. Taking from early in the morning to one o’ clock that afternoon, the first bent finally was pounded together and pegged. Although the four gentlemen proceeded to drive the trailer back to the Souds’ to load up the second bent, they never actually arrived back at the Lingos’ that day with either the trailer or the bent. The Bradshaws’ cows required moving. So the bent-hauling group disbanded and a new round-up gang formed. After the cows had been successfully herded across the road, no time remained to continue hauling bents, so the men decided to simply haul the rest of them over early Monday morning. Which they did. 

 {Photo taken from the Lingo's blog}

            Up at six thirty on Monday morning, Tricia Ann Lingo strode eagerly outside to find her brother, her pastor, and his son completing the third bent’s mortises, and her father fashioning lumber into a brace wall against which the first bent would rest once it was in its upright position. The light to rule the day peeked up and endeavored to inspect his kingdom without being noticed. He should have known better. Tricia Ann’s sparkling blue eyes caught Mr. Sun’s emergence immaculately through the crystal-clear prism of her Nikon.  
           Not long afterwards the Evanses and one McDonald drove up in their big white passenger van. They had been visiting their sister church in Coble, us, and had filled up the Bradshaws’ top story for a week and a half. They were departing that day and had stopped by to bid us a final farewell and to hang out for what little time they could. All were sorry to see them go, but promises were made to return again soon, which lightened everybody’s heart. Actually, Daddy, Olivia, Willa, Seth, and I passed them as they were departing down Sulphur Creek Road. Or rather we passed them, slammed on the brakes, backed up, and cheerfully wished them safe travels and God’s speed. 

            We Howards arrived just as the fun began. Mr. Stouffer and Mr. Creath were creating what Mr. Lingo terms, “push-poles… or harpoons.” Chris, Daniel, and Nathaniel got in on the act as well, and before I knew what was happening, Mr. Stouffer pulled me in too. As Seth helped Daddy perfect a cross-brace, I threw my weight around, or rather sat all of little ol’ me down on some two by fours with rebar embedded in them, to secure them while Mr. Stouffer employed the angle- grinder to sharpen the end of the rebar. Meanwhile, other final preparations were being accomplished for the raising of the first bent.

            Gathering on the concrete pad, the foundation of the pavilion, the men discussed how they would heave the two thousand pound bent into position. Off to the sides we ladies listened and watched intently. Pastor Lovett, Mr. Bradshaw, and Mr. Glover handed out orders and plotted the positions of the key heavers. “I don’t want these guys ever letting go of the frame,” Mr. Bradshaw stressed. They all nodded in affirmation.  

            The plan was to lift the frame six feet off the ground, and then brace it with three push-poles. The braces would give enough support for them to rest momentarily and re-orient themselves for the next push. Lifting the bent another two feet, they would secure the frame with eight-foot braces. Next would come the penultimate shove, which would bring them to a sixty-five degree angle. Quickly, the twelve foot harpoons would be banged into place. Then would come the last, mighty, dangerous, ultimate “Heave!” and the bent would stand upright. Provided that no complications arose and that the frame would not tip backwards just before it gained complete vertical status, everything would turn out fine. 

 Pastor Lovett began to run over every man’s job again, starting with Daddy. “Bruce, you and Matthew are manning the poles, right?”

“Matthew’s helping? Alright. I’ve laid out the poles as best I can. I’m going to just kind of poke the pole into the frame and what will he do?”

“I’m going to nail them to these pieces of wood right here,” replied Mr. Haverkamp pointing to three eight by twos lying on the ground as part of the support system.

At the end of what seemed like ten or twenty minutes only five people had really gone over their jobs. Suggestions, comments, snide or otherwise, and repeated orders to be quiet and simply listen to Mr. Glover after they began raising abounded.

“Alright men, are we ready?” Pastor Lovett asked. Somebody else was bound to ask another question or clarify something else, but Mr. Glover cut the rest of the conversation off. “Marion, we need to pray.” 

I’m positive all the ladies had already begun, but now the men removed any caps, hats, or berates they wore, and we all bowed our heads and implored our sovereign, almighty, loving, merciful heavenly Father to bless our endeavor, designed solely to glorify Him. We prayed that no one would be injured and that all would go smoothly and according to the will of God. “AMEN!”

            And so it began. “Huuuup!” Exerting their strength, every man lifted with all he had. 

               Mr. Bradshaw stood at the pinnacle of the bent and commenced commandeering. “Bruce, we need those braces now.” Already, Daddy and Mr.Haverkamp were poking and pounding the first one into place. “Next!” Daddy called. Scuttling underneath the raised bent Mr. Haverkamp secured the second, then the third. “We can’t let go guys. Don’t let go! These braces won’t hold it. We need to lift it again. Take a deep breath…” At this point I began praying furiously.  

              My body leaned rigidly against the Lingo’s shop. Determined not to fret, I tried to loosen myself up and relax a bit. It availed little. Still praying, now as measured and calmly as possible, I thought to myself, “Even if I am of no use the rest of the day, I’m being useful now. I’m praying.”

 “Heave!!!” The bent rose above the men’s heads. With their arms stretched above their crowns, they used themselves as braces until the eight-footers could be knocked into place. Trying to speedily do so, Daddy could not find a good spot to place the first pole.  Jacob and Caleb’s hands blocked the area. “Bruce, we need that pole in place!”

 “I’m getting it, Caleb and Jacob’s hands are in the way.” Jacob gingerly switched positions. Caleb slid his hands together. Daddy jutted the harpoon up. As Daddy proceeded to the next one, Mr.Haverkamp nailed the first pole. The men relaxed ever so slightly once all the push-poles were in place. “Don’t let go guys, but bring one hand down and rest it. That’s right. No! Don’t let go! Just one hand at a time.” Mr. Bradshaw knew well what would be required of them soon. “Alright, you rested now? Jeremy, Daniel, John, and Chris, I want y’all to move to the inside of the bent. Yes. No, Daniel, don’t stand there. You need to be able to escape. Stand closer to the inside of the bent. There you go.” 

“Are we going to be walking our hands up the beam as it straitens up?” John queried.

“Yes. You’re just gonna be walking the bent up. Now, everybody have their escape route? If this thing comes back there’s no stopping it.” I’m pretty sure my respiratory system had completely frozen by now. Caught in my lungs, the air just simply would not release itself. Seth watched in stick straight fascination, even though I’m sure he didn’t realize the gravity of the situation. Gripping the sill with white knuckles, Hamilton observed, equally enthralled, from the upper-story window of the Lingo’s new house along with my older sister, Olivia.

Pastor Lovett shouted, “One! Two! Three! Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuppp!” Grunts escaped from every throat. Veins and sinew showed, tense. Faces flushed crimson. The bent began to move. “Go! Go! Go! Go!” They had nearly reached the twelve foot height. Suspended mid-air, the bent would have toppled backwards if they ceased for even a moment.  “We can’t stop now! Just go! Go! Gooooo!!!” 

“Oh dear God! Help them!!” Up, up, up. Almost there. Just a few more inches. Nearly on their tiptoes, they all took one final step, one ultimate shove. And there it stood, tall and erect in the mid-morning sunlight. 

“Yeah!!!WooHoo!!!” We all cheered in one accord. God had been gracious and the bent was up.

Yet we couldn’t stop for celebration, the bent had to be secured. Pulling a handful of nails out of his pocket, Mr. Lingo handed some to Daniel, then the duo commenced deftly nailing the bottoms of the posts to the support wall. Mr. Haverkamp strode over to join them then asked whether or not they should tap the posts so that they rested precisely upon where they were supposed to. Quickly, they agreed to do so and Mr. Haverkamp grabbed a board and hammer and shifted the posts slightly. Behind him, Daniel doubly insured the integrity of the bent by employing the nail gun at the base of the structure.  

            On to the next bent! While other guys unloaded the new set of mortises and tenons, Daddy, Jacob, Kyle, and I worked on the third bent’s cross braces, which still required finishing. On top of the short but heavy little log I perched, securing it, once again, in the Emma fashion, and finding it rather difficult to keep it entirely still. Admiring the grain that Daddy, looking every inch the capable carpenter (with his name tag and all), was revealing, I commented, “I absolutely love woodworking. I believe I could sit and watch and smell it all day long.” And really, I could. That was one of the things that held my intense interest throughout the day. I was fascinated by the subtle, supple, and simple qualities of wood. 

            Mrs. Creath walked over to the picnic table where Daddy and I were working. Touching my shoulder she declared, “You remind me of how I used to work with my dad. I spent a long time helping him just the way you are.” I smiled at the thought and she returned it then walked away.

            We had spent a while working on the cross-braces then Pastor Lovett walked by. “Emma, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I answered, wondering why he was asking me.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” I replied playfully.

“Sure?”

“Yes!”

“Nothing wrong?”

“Nope, nothing!”

“Okay, just checking. You weren’t smiling! That’s so unusual for Emma! I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Oh!” I beamed from ear to ear. “Yes, everything’s fine,” I kept the grin plastered on my face. Grinning as well, Pastor Lovett walked on. The Stouffer ladies stopped by for a little while, and Camille captured a few moments through her view-finder. Lunch rolled around. Thankfully the men decided to eat before raising the second bent. Starved, Mrs. Lingo’s egg salad sandwiches and the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches nearly made my mouth water. Directly after the sandwiches sat the five different varieties of chips. Plain Lays chips, crinkle chips, sour cream n’ onion chips, BBQ chips, and cheesey chips all looked appetizing. Being a cheesey girl, I chose the cheesiest.

“Emma, would you like ginger beer, tea, or water?” I figured that the fellers would enjoy the ginger beer infinitely more than I, and I don’t like tea, Aunt Jemima on ice or not. So I requested some water. “Let me go get my cup. Uno momento.” Kaliste nodded and I ran over to where my Styrofoam cup was squeezed in between a picnic table and Daddy’s box of belt- sander paper. Rinsing the dirt out, Kaliste filled it full of ice cold spring water which she, Tricia Ann, and Olivia had collected from down the road. 

What a lunch and what a day! The sky soared above us in bright, clear, blue brilliance. The sun shone down with just enough warmth to make the playful breeze refreshing. Although most of us busied ourselves too much with stuffing our faces to converse, others managed to jabber the entire meal. 

After lunch Daddy and I put aside tweaking cross-braces to work on whittling down some locust wood pegs with a table saw. Others continued to assemble the second bent, and Jacob and Kyle persevered in molding mortises and perfecting tenons. “Hey Danny boy!” hollered Kyle. “Are you doing anything?”

“Wha? No, I’m not.”

“Great. Sit on this tenon please.” Daniel dropped dutifully down. Looking at me he remarked, “This is all I’m good for!”

I nodded sympathetically and sarcastically, admitting, “Me too.”

“Uh huh. It’s a pity really.”

“Daniel!” Nathaniel cried.

“What??”

“You shouldn’t have said that. You just told her that she was a good for nothing,” Nat laughed.

Daniel tried to make up some excuse and I just smiled. 

Only an hour or so after lunch many of our able men had to skedaddle, including our visitors, the Creaths and Jeremy Beech. This created a conundrum. Certainly now we could not lift the second bent with only grunt-power. Power-tools must be employed. Mr. Bradshaw whipped out his wench and Pastor Lovett hopped on his Bobcat. Attaching the wench’s winding mechanism to the brace wall, Mr. Bradshaw tossed the thin, almost thread-like steel cable over the first bent’s top hammer bent beam. A PVC elbow section kept the cable from cutting into the wood. As Pastor Lovett slid the forks of the Bobcat underneath the top of the second bent, Caleb directed him. The idea was to use the wench and Bobcat to slowly raise the bent, while the other guys used harpoons to help prop and raise it.

            By now the sun had reached its zenith, beating down on the workers and on-lookers. Mrs. Lovett had arrived with Jonathan and Hannah. Mommy and Josiah soon joined us as well. Girlishly giggling on the Lingo’s front porch, Tricia Ann, Kaliste, and Olivia snapped dutifully away on their cameras, laughingly compared pictures, and chatted. Standing on the Lingo’s back porch, Mommy, Josiah, and I all watched interestedly. 

“Start raising it!” Mr. Bradshaw, manning the wench, was told. Slowly, Pastor Lovett began lifting the Bobcat’s forks, underneath the second bent. While Mr. Stouffer, Daddy, Chris, Jacob, Daniel, and Kyle all stood ready with their push-poles, Caleb continued to direct. “Whoa! Whoa!”

“What? Am I scratching it?” Pastor Lovett asked concernedly. I couldn’t quite figure out what the problem was, but apparently they soon found a solution to it and re-commenced action. Gingerly, the men continued raising the bent and the push-poles came into play. Inching the Bobcat forward, Pastor Lovett called for Mr. Bradshaw. Daniel took over his job, keeping the wench cable taut. Soon the men finished consulting and pressed onward again. 

“Uh… these screws seemed to be pulling out,” Daniel observed.

“What’s that?” asked Mr.Glover

“It looks like the screws that are holding this wench to the brace wall are pulling out.”  

Once inspected, nobody found this fact of too much issue, the screws hadn’t pulled out enough yet to warrant over-concern, but Daniel was charged to keep an eye on it. Looking up at Mother, Josiah, and me, still standing on the Lingo’s back porch, Daniel warned us that we might not want to stand as close as we were. The large board that held the wench could snap at any moment. Accordingly, we re-located to the field where Mrs. Lovett, Mrs. Lingo, Jonathan, and Hannah were all watching. 

Although only minutes before, Jonathan and Hannah had been burying their heads in their Mama’s jean skirt, they now played delightedly on the third, unassembled bent, laying on the twenty foot long trailer. Josiah, held by me, insisted that he too climb up there with the big kids. Watching the bent raising with concern, the mothers discussed various things from the day. As I tried to ensure that my little rambunctious brother escaped splinters, I was able the catch bits and pieces of the scene. 

Pastor Lovett maxed out his Bobcat. The forks could not go any higher, and the treads touched the side of the concrete pad. Now what? Nearly every push-pole supported the bent and the wench still held taut. “Why aren’t they using a crane?” Mrs. Lovett questioned.

Mommy laughed. “I guess it’s because they’re guys. It’d be wimpy to use a crane.” Both Mrs. Lingo and Mrs. Lovett agreed with her.

            “I wish they would though,” said Mrs. Lingo.

“It makes me nervous, what they’re doing there,” replied Mommy.

“There’s a guy with a crane waiting and wanting to come help them,” put in Mrs. Lovett. Daddy walked over just then. Everything was at a standstill.

“So why aren’t y’all using a crane?” Mrs. Lingo asked Daddy.

Chuckling, he answered, “Because we’re guys, and we like to do things the manly way!”

 After Mother had finished talking with Daddy, she, Josiah, and I all hopped into our big white van, Elvis, and drove home.

In the meantime, our hardworking men parked the Bobcat and held a pow-wow. “To use a crane or not to use a crane, that is the question.” After a little deliberation amongst the guys, Daddy piped up, “How are we proposing to get the ridge beams up?” They explained their plan for using a pulley system- without the pulley- to lift them. Mr. Glover insisted that they call a crane. Already dangerous, the situation could easily get worse. Although the men were somewhat reluctant to do so, they all recognized the wisdom of Mr. Glover's opinion and phoned the crane-man. Indefatigably, the men, already tired and sore, continued to labor to assemble the third and final bent. Reinforcements arrived, mostly in the forms of cheerleaders such as the Bradshaw, Haverkamp, Lovett, Stouffer, and Stokes ladies, as well as encouraging and fascinated on-lookers such as Gramps and a few little boys. Thankfully, Mr. Stokes also arrived, which added a fresh and willing pair of hands to the labor force.   

 Announcing its arrival soon afterwards with the incredibly loud noise that heavy equipment usually exudes, the crane pulled up, ready to work. And work it did! Almost before the out-riggers could be situated, the men had wrapped a thick yellow strap around the top of the second bent and were itching to attach the orange crane-hook to the strap. Once attached, the crane easily lifted the bent into place. In fact, the bent was completely up by the time Daddy, who had run home, Seth, and I made it back around four thirty.

 Yet again, I lost interest in everything else but watching the men construct. I think I wandered into a different world than most of the other on-lookers. I simply could not tear myself away from the sight. While the crane kept the second bent from tipping, our herculean men, enduring and strong, lifted first one transitory purlin, and then another into place. Pastor Lovett, Mr. Stokes, Caleb, and Daniel did the delicate and strenuous work of maneuvering the purlins into place, while all the rest heftily hoisted the purlins up into their reach, some with push-poles and some without. With both of those transitory purlins in place, the crane released the second bent, and picked up the third. Laying the bent halfway on the concrete pad, the crane master hopped off the operating seat, and waited for his next set of instructions.  

“Measure twice, cut once.”  According to that wise saying, Jacob and Caleb carefully measured what the length of the four main beams should be and cut them so that the bent would stand level. After pieces of treated lumber had been screwed into place as footers on the four beams, only a few minor adjustments were made to other parts of the bent. “She’s ready! Let’s go!” Slowly, easily, even surreally, the crane lifted the bent until it simply hung in the air, then the machine gently swung the bent, directed smoothly by Pastor Lovett and Mr. Stokes,  over the concrete pad. And it was up! How incredibly different from the first bent’s raising! One lifted by brawny men in the fulgent mid-morning light, with tension in every muscle of every on looker (Mrs. Glover even hid in the Lingo’s trailer with a pillow over her head) and the other by a huge crane in the gentle, fading gleam of the sun, barely noticed by all those peacefully sitting ‘round, chatting and enjoying the carefree spring weather.

Without skipping a beat, our guys set up the ladders and heaved the transitory purlins up between the second and third bents. The sun lingered low. Six pieces to go. Victory was in sight. Down by the trailer, Chris, Daniel, Kyle, and Nathaniel worked at different times to hook up the purlins to the crane and lead them with a long yellow cord to their positions.Up on ladders or perching on the top of the bents, Pastor Lovett, Mr. Stokes, Mr. Haverkamp, and Caleb guided and banged the ridge beams and purlins into place. The rest of the men and I played the role of gofer and fetched tools and extension cords as needed. Running, sword fighting, kicking a ball, playing baby dolls, standing, sitting, chatting, or photographing, lovely ladies and laughing little ones added pleasantness to the comraderic atmosphere. 

Yet danger never excused herself from the scene. While putting in one of the purlins, Pastor Lovett, a good ten or fifteen feet above the concrete slab, lost his balance and started to fall. Just in time, by the gracious hand of God, he was able to grab on to the bent and keep himself from dropping to the ground. Although from the ground the men didn’t seem to be very high up, when I walked up and watched from the Lingo’s second story, I nearly contacted dizziness. I’m rather afraid of heights and from that angle the men looked like they sat on the ladders about twenty or thirty feet above the ground, instead of the ten or fifteen feet it really was. 

From up in the Lingo’s house I counted, one, two, three, four, five… six, seven, eight, nine… Only one more to go! The last purlin! It was being picked up with the crane and led over to the last socket. “Emma, I want to go downstairs!” begged Elsia. “Ummm…” I had to witness the completion of the structure! I had been working, watching, and waiting for this moment all day! “Okay, hurry!” I figured there would be enough time to dash down to the back porch and watch from there. I almost picked Elsia up when she wasn’t walking as fast as I wished her to. Skidding to a stop on the porch, I watched delightedly as they placed the last purlin easily in place, just as the sun’s last rays kissed the world goodbye for another night.  “Thank you Lord,” I breathed, “You have been so good to us.” 

Let the feast begin! With the same vision in mind that drove seven men to a workshop in North Carolina, gave two young men the diligence to work day and night on a pile of logs, and endowed fourteen men with the strength to give a two thousand pound wall one last final shove, we celebrated that evening. The back porch was cleared of tools and then covered ‘round about with ‘ponies’-miniature saw horses that the men had been using that day- and the yard was scattered with picnic tables and a few wicker chairs.
Famous Lingo and Glover burgers and hotdogs served as the main dish with delicious baked beans, savory chips, and cool cole slaw to compliment them, and to finish it all up, chewy brownies and moist, buttery pan cookies. After a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving for the day and blessing of the food, we all coursed, “Amen!” and rapidly began filling our plates with smoky, juicy hamburgers and frills. While waiting for one of her siblings to take Joshua so that she could eat, Kenan swung him up on top of her shoulders. Walking over to them with Josiah, I tickled Joshua, and there quickly ensued a chasing, racing, tickling, and pretend shooting game in which all four of us giggled contagiously and incessantly.  

By the time our sisters took over watching the little boys, most of the group had dipped up their food and were perching on the siding piles, lounging on benches, or crunching around picnic tables. Mrs. Stouffer, Camille, Kenan, and I decided to rest atop of an empty folding table, shunning the non-existent, or rather occupied, chairs. As the evening wore on with many hilarious and enjoyable conversations and events punctuating it, tired families began to leave, and the crowd dwindled. Happily, those of us still remaining munched on the surviving brownies “Hey Caroline!” called Camille. I turned around. “Oh! I thought you were Caroline!” exclaimed Camille, “Sorry!”

“That’s okay!” I laughed, “People have been mistaking Caroline, Willa, and me all day.” We all were sporting our house-raising t-shirts, ankle-length jean skirts, and brown pony-tails.

“Hey! Camille, you should take a picture of us since we all three match!” suggested Caroline.

Together, we pulled Willa into the picture, and the photo-shoot began. After a few “funny-face” shots, Kaliste hopped in too, wearing her house-raising t-shirt, jean skirt, and brown hair. Things started getting plain silly. Then Caleb jumped in. Of course, the silliness only escalated from there!  

Driving home that evening along the dark, peaceful back roads, Olivia, Willa, and I all commented in retrospect about how absolutely wonderful, fascinating, and satisfying the day had been. We had been given the chance to assist in the erecting of a pavilion that will hopefully minister not only to the Lingos, but to the entire community through the Lingos’ hospitality. This pavilion will provide a beautiful place to sit with wonderful brothers and sisters on a warm summer evening drinking sweet lemonade after a long hard day of work and reflecting on the great and glorious goodness of our God. Also, our men hope to use the valuable skills they learned in this project to someday construct a beautiful and intricate timber-frame church in which eventually even our great-great-great grandchildren may stand to worship our God every Lord’s Day, be baptized, and get hitched.

More pictures can be found on the Lingo's blog: Here, Here, and Here. And on Camille's blog, here. A big thanks to Kaliste for some of these pictures!