I have no illusions of becoming the student of scripture that so many around me were in my youth. My grandmother could quote the Good Book with the best of them. Sometimes her references confused me, and at others, she nailed it.
I recall an intriguing exchange eons ago that involved a chest freezer, a rented trailer with a malfunctioning tongue jack, a less-than-capable hand truck, and a collapsing porch. The story would require days to recount in a meaningful way, but suffice it to say the supervisor on the job was Murphy, and his impactful law was decisive.
Through a series of challenges, I found myself still striving to load a trailer on Sunday morning, a task that should have easily concluded Saturday before supper ("dinner" is consumed at noon in the South, and the evening repast is known as "supper"). Nonetheless, I was lecturing the freezer and trailer in a colorful monologue that Sunday morning, late enough that the dinner hour approached.
A car pulled up the gravel drive; it was none other than the local Baptist minister. One of my great-grandfathers was a founder of the local Baptist church, two miles to the west, while another of my great-grandfathers was a founder of the local Methodist church, two miles to the East.
Each was on the same road as the house at which I labored that morning. As a child, my father walked dutifully to one church each Sunday before supper and to the other each Sunday after dinner. That's a different story, but suffice it to say, stopping was convenient, and it is fair to say my grandmother got her love of scripture honestly.
Back to my three-hundred-pound freezer, rickety hand truck, hundred-year-old front porch and stairs, soft yard ... Yeah, "careful" never occurred to me. Thanks for mentioning it, Grandma.
It is amazing how much speed a three-hundred-pound load can accumulate over a very short distance. The hand truck ended up embedded in the yard, and upon excavation was significantly cattywompus from a bent axle. It was an adventure.
Back to the minister. As he alighted from his truck (yes, 'tis the south), my grandmother greeted him with an excuse for her absence from the morning service with a reference to Luke 14:5:
"my ox is in the pit."
The Gospel itself says:
"Then He answered them, saying, 'Which of you, having a donkey or an ox that has fallen into a pit, will not immediately pull him out on the Sabbath day?'”
The connotation is that we must meet our obligations. There is a call to worship expressed in those teachings, but there are also sound excuses for not observing the Sabbath.
All that makes sense. But the minister's response has stuck with me for decades. He replied:
"That's no excuse if you pushed the ox into the ditch." ("pit" or "ditch" depends on which translation you are reading).
That struck me immediately. How would this late-arrival observer be in any position to decide how the ox got in the ditch? It seemed presumptuous and rude. Where did he get off jumping to the conclusion that the current moment was somehow a fault or failure of intent, plan, or process?
I do not recall sharing my thoughts with him, but my mind was awash with sarcasm and repudiation. Despite his assumption and accusatory tone, he sat in the yard and conversed with my grandmother for a long while; I had the trailer loaded by the time he elected to move on with his day. As I recall, he did not offer to help me with that freezer at any point.
Nonetheless, the story has lessons.
There is merit in preparation. So often, in the world of litigation, we see those who have failed a deadline. Their trial is imminent, their deadline nigh, and they are not ready. In the context of this post, their ox is in the ditch. While they may struggle to pull it out, they may also seek excuse from the existing mandate, the trial. This is the motion for continuance, post-hearing discovery, and the like.
Much like the esteemed minister so long ago, the judge's job is to ask the simple question, "How did the ox get in the pit?" That it is will be part of the analysis; there is a need for relief. But the statute in Florida workers' compensation seeks an analysis of why, "the reason for requesting the continuance arises from circumstances beyond the party’s control." Section 440.25(1), Fla. Stat.
Did you push your own ox into the ditch? Were you inattentive to your flock and the ox was allowed to wander into the ditch? Can you explain how the ox being in the ditch is beyond your control? If you can, then you should be able to expect the judge to get up and help you with extracting it.
If you cannot explain it, much as they may commisserate and sympathize, they are likely to partake of the conversation and then be on their way. Be direct, sincere, and frank. Tell the whole story, the unexpected weight, the impaired trailer, the malfunctioning hand cart, and the efforts you have endured striving to overcome them all.
You don't have to be Hemingway, Faulkner, or Shakespeare, but you must be able to tell a story. Do it well, and your chances of relief increase markedly.
