What a Nearly 50-Year-Old Trailer Taught Me About Resilience
By September 2025, I should have known this remodel would keep surprising me. The month became a whirlwind of one problem after another, with just enough breathing room in between. The trouble is, I really, really hate inconveniencing people. After a lifetime of people-pleasing, asking someone to wait, return, or change plans goes against every fiber of my being. I’m beginning to think this house was sent my way to cure me of that affliction. Even so, I’ll always do what I can to keep my projects from becoming someone else’s inconvenience.
The month started with what seemed like a small project: bringing the breaker box up to code by matching 15-amp wiring with 15-amp breakers. Was it wise to test this nearly 50-year-old “tinder box” of a trailer by putting 20-amp breakers on almost 50-year-old 15-amp wiring? Probably not. I called someone who knew what he was doing, and he replaced the oversized breakers along with several that were simply the wrong type for the box. Who knew there were so many kinds? How had this house not burned down? He also discovered that the water heater had been wired incorrectly and found a 30-amp wire that seemed to lead nowhere. The stove, water heater, and clothes dryer were accounted for and otherwise wired correctly, and every outlet and light still worked. We safely disconnected the mystery wire, knowing he would return if I discovered what it powered.
Next came the furnace inspection and cleaning. The technician and his helper looked everything over and told me to fire it up, so I turned up the thermostat. Nothing happened. Nothing. What on earth? On closer inspection, we discovered that the mysterious 30-amp wire had been reduced to the little 15-amp line the furnace needed to power its blower motor and igniter. Yep. Someone had used that oversized circuit to feed the furnace. I’m not sure whose bright idea that was, but there we were: no power and no furnace service.
I called my electrical guy back, and he restored the power. Still, the furnace wouldn’t respond to the thermostat. He didn’t have time to troubleshoot further, so I had to “phone a (different) friend” yet again.
When the friend I phoned arrived, he brought a fancy tester. First, he checked the water-heater elements because my water hadn’t seemed consistently warm, but the elements were fine. Then he turned to the furnace. Through what I can only call magic, he discovered that the furnace was receiving electricity but that we had inadvertently severed the tiny wire running from the thermostat during the drywall installation. Boy, when you’re inexperienced, you can mess up the strangest things.
Of course, I discovered the severed wire just after mudding and taping had begun on my freshly installed drywall. Instead of running new wire safely through the ceiling, we had to route it along the floor and across a doorway to reach the furnace. Luckily, the carpet had not yet been laid in that bedroom, so my installer could use his expertise to hide and secure the wire properly.
All of this was happening while the drywall was being mudded, taped, and textured. Meanwhile, the water heater seemed to work better for a little while, but soon the water stopped feeling as hot again. Eventually, I convinced myself that inconsistent warmth was simply normal for this old trailer.
The good news was that I got a little break—until the next problem arrived.
Then the House Sprang a Leak
I have a really awesome neighbor who keeps a finger on everything happening around us. I appreciate that because I’m the same way at my office building—I like to know who is where and what they do. At 8 p.m., she texted me: “I hear water under your house.” I ran outside, pulled back the old, flimsy skirting, and found a sauna under there: hot water everywhere, steam rolling out. For no logical reason, I decided the dishwasher connection had broken. I ran inside and pulled out the dishwasher, but it was dry as a bone. Duh. I shut off the water, grabbed my tools, and started removing the skirting. I’ll spare you every odd theory and wacky step that followed. Suffice it to say, I was working on a metal-sided, metal-skirted trailer whose “gutters” acted more like “fillers and dumpers,” in the middle of a freak thunderstorm, with a friend willing to weather it beside me. The hot-water “pipe” turned out to be the thin-walled distribution tubing commonly used in RVs. A pinhole had formed where the tubing had rested for almost 50 years on a staple holding the electrical line beneath it. I suspect that contact weakened the tubing until it finally gave way. At least I finally knew why the water had not been staying hot—the water heater itself had never been the problem. More than once during this remodel, I’ve heard, “Boy, they didn’t really make these trailers to last, did they?” My answer is always the same: nearly 50 years with 1-by-2-inch rafters, very interesting wiring techniques, and paper-thin water lines is impressive.
What This Old Trailer Is Teaching Me
Isn’t that a lesson for us? Look back over your life. Think about the situations you have endured and the things you have fought tooth and nail to get through. Some people crack under the pressure, or their bodies fail before they reach a certain point in life. Others seem to go through hardship and emerge almost unscathed. Still others break in places, get repaired, and become stronger through each trial. There are endless combinations, but none of us moves through life without challenges. Just as a tree grows stronger by swaying in the wind, so do we. Yet strength is not measured by how much we can carry on our own. Sometimes we need someone else to patch us up, reinforce us, and help us stand again. We were built for resilience—and for one another.
Working on this trailer has taught me about my own strength and resilience, but also about the strength we find in leaning on others. Reach out when you need help, and when you see someone in need, offer what you can. Together, we can be unstoppable. Maybe you have noticed this pattern running through these blog posts: in a world where we hide behind keyboards and smartphones, mistaking constant access for genuine connection, we need real human interaction more than ever. If you want help discovering where you want to go in this life—or what meaningful connection could look like for you—I can walk with you as a coach. Most of all, I point you toward the One who knows what you are going through, understands every pain, and walks beside you. His help is free, abundant, and always available.
These two passages capture the kind of strength I am learning to trust: not a life without burdens, but a life in which we do not carry them alone.
28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30 NIV
8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 2 Corinthians 4:8–9