I’m a big fan of nicknames.  All three of my kids and my wife have them and, thanks to classmates at Officer Training School and the Chaplain Service Institute, I’ve even got a couple myself.  Each of these nicknames has a story behind it.  From odd behavior to embarrassing moments, each nickname conjures smiles upon the faces of those who know and curiosity in the minds of those who don’t.  So, it shouldn’t surprise you that I occasionally bestow nicknames on friends and coworkers.

A few years ago I led an 18-person, coed team from our church in Illinois to New Orleans.  We worked with TouchGlobal, the compassion ministry of our denomination.  We planned on driving down, staying at Trinity Church in Covington, the work team host church, and working on homes in the city.  So, on Mother’s Day we drove a bunch of Chevys to the failed levies of Louisiana.

Everyday began the same.  We got up, ate, gathered tools and headed to our work site.  Our team worked in the Gentilly neighborhood of New Orleans.  We were helping an 80-year-old man clean his house and prepare for the insurance adjuster.  Mainly we carried ruined clothes, furniture and a lifetime of memories out to the trash heap.  Additionally, some fixtures were ruined by the flooding and in need of replacement as well.

At the end of one long day removing the ruined memories of this poor man, I mentioned to a fellow worker that we would need to remove the sink tomorrow.  Having placed him in charge of our tools (hence the original moniker, ‘Tool Monkey’), I asked him to make sure we had a pipe wrench or a pair of Channel Locks with us the next morning.  After dinner and worship, I rested well knowing Tool Monkey was on the job.

The next day started as the rest.  Warm and already humid, we completed our morning ritual and departed for the work site.  As we crossed Lake Ponchartrain, I looked over at Tool Monkey, who rode shotgun in the pick up, and asked, “You got the right tools, right?”

“What?” he asked, sounding a bit sleepy.

“A wrench or some channel locks, you got them?”  I continued.

“About that,” he said as comprehension spread across his face, “Um . . .”

Nothing more was needed.  It was clear we were without the tool necessary to remove the sink from the wall.  At this point we couldn’t turn around.  We had to get into New Orleans and then we could turn back to Covington and retrieve the right tool.  A bit frustrated, I mentioned we’d have to go back, and he contacted the other vehicle, telling them to continue on toward the house.

Well, as Providence would have it, we saw the sign of a Lowes as we neared our planned turn around.  Deciding it would be faster to stop here than to return to Covington, we pulled into Lowes and ventured inside.

It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for:  a set of arc-joint pliers, commonly known by the brand name Channel Locks.  I grabbed the pliers, paid for them and we were back on the road in less than 20 minutes.  As we drove on to the house, I gave our Tool Monkey some good-natured ribbing about forgetting the one tool we really needed that day.

Arriving at the house, the rest of our team wondered why we’d been delayed.  Holding up my new pliers, I explained Gary’s oversight as well as our subsequent stop at Lowes. Their curiosity satisfied, they returned to work as we unloaded some other tools from the back of our pick-up.

Tool Monkey bent over to grab some gloves and masks out of a white, 5-gallon bucket and he froze, half bent over.  Now, since he faced away from me, I can only imagine the look he must have had on his face.  Perhaps a mixture of frustration, anger and humor—whatever it was, it must have been good.  But he slowly rose up, straightening his back with something in his right hand.  As he stood upright, his right hand smoothly rose high above his head, and he waved his prize s he turned, smiling.

“Let me guess,” I said.

“Channel Locks,” he replied.

It turns out that Channel Locks were a part of the regular tool list each team is given each day.  Our Tool Monkey hadn’t paid attention during the briefing when we first arrived, and so was unaware of this fact.  Thus, as we crossed the Causeway, he didn’t know the pliers we needed sat safely in the bed of our truck.

And that is why Gary the Tool Monkey is now Channel Locks.