Last week we covered the importance of having a plan. Luke Couch is the first person I remember saying, “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” I don’t know who originated that line, but I’ve gradually realized it’s applicable to many facets of life, even chimney repairs.

YouTube deserves partial credit for some of my poorly executed attempts at various undertakings. Online videos tempt me to forge boldly ahead in quagmires I’m not equipped to navigate. Dirty Harry was right on target: “A man has got to know his limitations.”

My skill level is way below the norm for many do-it-yourself construction projects. After watching a few tutorials, however, sometimes I can’t resist thinking I have inexplicably improved. That’s what happened with my chimney repairs.

After getting the four fireplaces reopened, I decided the only work needed was a little mortar replaced in the joints. Someone who knew what they were doing would have done more scraping and prodding, making sure they weren’t covering up something that first needed cleaning out. I skipped that step, however, and went straight to Home Depot. The miraculous mortar I bought didn’t even need mixing and was conveniently packaged for an almost effortless application.

A cheerful lady in a video assured me it was simple. You just put the tube in a caulk gun then squeeze a little out and smooth it with the handy tip. That would have worked fine, except the joints were in worse shape than I’d thought. Crevices were deeper and cracks in the bricks were more substantial than my hasty assessment had revealed. In some places the crumbling mortar had become almost like sand and was barely holding on.

The label said the product should not be used to fill holes over three sixteenths of an inch deep. I was confident, however, that didn’t apply to me. It was of little concern some places were several inches over the maximum. Worst case I’d go back for refills with a bigger shopping cart. 

I squeezed the contents of six tubes into cracks, holes, and gaps where bricks were missing parts of their faces. A week later the fresh mortar still had a softness which I suspected was not a good sign. I began to wonder if the directions were more important than I had first believed.

So, I learned from my mistake and bought three twenty-pound buckets of refractory cement plus a bonding agent to help it stick. I was excited about this new approach. A problem, however, arose once again because of the same stubborn fellow ignoring directions.

A precise amount of water, or bonding agent, was to be added to the dry powder then stirred for at least three minutes. To test the material, it suggested forming a baseball size clump and tossing it up a dozen times. If the consistency was right, the clump would stay together.

I figured clumps were for chumps and was confident a measuring cup wasn’t needed. After adding what seemed about the right amount of liquid then stirring for over 60 seconds, the mortar looked ready. Looks, however, can be deceiving.    

One good thing I did was make small batches. Toward the end of patching the third chimney I finally got the water to mortar proportions in balance. When the consistency was right, the mortar began sticking to the bricks rather than escaping crevices and creeping slowly down the walls.

The repairs I made are noticeably imperfect, but a coat of high-heat paint will hide most of the flaws. Maybe someday I’ll stop making the same mistakes, like thinking directions don’t apply to me.  

Sometimes I follow that same errant path in daily living, even in matters of faith. I’ve been reading and believing a book of instructions since childhood. Quite often, however, I rely too much on my opinion and too little on God’s commands. The best directions are useless if ignored or diluted.          

Repairing those chimneys was a learning experience. If starting anew, however, there’s one thing I would do differently – I’d call my friend John David Law. He doesn’t need paint to hide mistakes.

 Dirty Harry was right on target: “A man has got to know his limitations.”