We’ve had this noise around here that sort of resembles the engine room of an oil tanker. It’s this floor-vibrating rumble. Started about two or three months ago, occasionally at first. Then, when we came in this morning, it was constant. For Kristen and Seth, it was like being part of the crew of the Titanic. We decided we needed to do something about it—a prospect that inevitably involves our friend and general contractor, Koko Korver.

Koko came by, poked around the back of our offices, and suggested that it might be upstairs. So we went up to visit our friends at M33 (one of South Carolina’s fastest growing companies according to Elliot Davis). Nobody was there except Nancy Edge, because the air conditioning was out, and since it was about 100 degrees around here today, that could be life threatening. Anyhow, Nancy gave us permission to poke around. And Koko found it!

The little flapper thing was worn in the toilet of the ladies’ room. So the water never stopped running…but it never really started running either. So, the valve had worn out gradually (sort of like what happens when you ride the clutch on a stick shift car). And as the watter ran constantly through this half-open valve, it vibrated the valve. And the valve, through sympathetic vibration, vibrated the plumbing around it, which in turn vibrated all of the plumbing in the building. The whole thing would turn this 100-year-old brick building into a resonator…a speaker housing…a giant, one-note, rumbling pipe organ.

The solution, turn the water off to that toilet. Noise went away. Everyone was happy. Of course, the folks upstairs will have to get a plumber to come and replace the guts of the toilet. But then—sweet silence!

You gotta meet Koko. While he was here, he told us a great story about the early days of his company. Seems that Joel (Koko’s dad and my favorite missionary) had started the company and sold it. They guy who bought it built it up into a thriving general contractor, built entirely on negotiated design-build projects. But then the guy got sick. And the negotiating stopped. And for a while, they had plenty of work, because all the contracts were pretty large and long-term. But, just as the guy was bowing out of the company (leaving it in Koko’s hands), the work dried up.

So Koko, trained to be a missionary not a general contractor, was left with a crew, a contractor’s license, and … no work. So, at the end of every day the crew would say, “what are we gonna do tomorrow?” And Koko would say, “I don’t know; come into the office and we’ll see.” And they would come into the office, have prayer together, do some Bible study and some devotions. And then … the phone would ring! “Hello. Yes. I think we can fit you in. How does … ah … right now sound?” And the crew would head out and do the job, and they would make their expenses.

This went on for months. Then, business picked up. And now the company is a well established general contractor in the area. But before they got to learn about things like cash flow, work flow, inventory, tax strategy, sales pipelines… or anything else, they got to learn about faith.

This is principle #18 of the 21 principles. And we really try to follow it. After all, no one of us can possibly be as smart as all of us. But to illustrate this principle, Anne discovered still another benefit of teaching a Sunday school class of teenage girls. Of course, the coolest part is watching these little girls struggle through this awkward time and come out the other side beautiful, unique, spiritually curious young women. But there are other things too.

Jules, it seems, is ga-ga over a singer songwriter named Jason Mraz. Now, we had never heard of Jason Mraz. So, in order to keep an eye on things that influence Julia’s young mind, and in order to be conversant on things that matter to her, Anne googled Jason. We learned that he lives in the middle of an avocado farm outside of San Diego…that he has a cute little Paul McCartney sort of voice…and that he has a style that is perfect for a certain brand located on the world’s most isolated populated land mass.

Thanks for the help, Jules. You rock.

At about 6:00 this morning, I was dropping my little brother off at GSP, for his return flight to New York. He was here for a lightning fast three-day visit, to talk to somebody (I could tell you who, but, well, I just can’t) about something (I can’t even begin to tell you what).

My little brother, sometimes known among friends as my “egghead” little brother, works for the conference board. You know them as the people who bring us the Index of Leading Economic Indicators (quantifying that the economy is going to heck in a hand basket) and the Consumer Confidence Index (quantifying that although the economy is going to heck in a hand basket, you couldn’t tell it to see people spending like drunken sailors). He is not an economist. Nor is he a PhD. He is a human resource researcher, with a background and education in organizational communication.

It was fun introducing him to the staff. They made the mistake of asking him what he did. His explanation was conceptual poetry of a sort (dude used “causal” and “empirical” in the same sentence). We went over to the Lazy Goat for dinner on Monday—somebody has to explain to American Grocery that if this is going to be a food town, they have to be open on Mondays. We ate a bunch of vaguely middle-eastern tapas things.

Then yesterday, we had a special treat. Our friend Katherine had us over for a basic, simple, home dinner. It was fun watching two of my favorite smart people get to know each other. Each has since expressed delight in having met the other, so as a connector I have had a victory.

Looks like my little brother might be coming back to talk some more with those people about that thing. I hope so. It’ll be fun hanging out some more.