Tile

July 7, 2019

People think I’m crazy because I love laying tile. I can’t remember ever talking with anyone who loves doing it, but there must be some folks who do; after all, someone has to install it. But rank amateurs like myself seem to shie away from anything remotely concerned with tile. 

Tiling is both fussy and forgiving. It’s what you don’t see that determines whether it will be a good or a crummy job. It won’t work if the floor isn’t rock-solid and void of any irregularities like bumps or dips. Perfectly flat fits the bill. If the floor is laid on joists, they need to be strong enough to take the weight without movement. Our dining room and living room will bounce if we jump; no tile there. 

Tile can be laid on plywood, but it’s best to lay down hardee, or cement board to stiffen the floor and provide a good surface for the thinset. Mix it according to the instructions, lay it on and spread it out with a grooved trowel, and start laying it down, making sure to use the right size spacers between the tiles. It’s best if you butter the underside of the tiles, but not absolutely necessary if you make sure they’re pressed firmly into the thinset. Once it’s dry, clean everything up, make sure the grout lines are clean, and start floating the grout. Wipe it off, buff it out, seal the lines, and it’s all done. It actually sounds harder than it really is.

It can be messy, and gives you a good workout, but I love it for one single reason: Once it’s done, you can look at it and say, “It is finished.” For fifty years, I’ve worked with people, and trust me, you’re never finished with that work! The only one who worked with people and could legitimately say, “It is finished,” was Jesus. He finished what he came to do; dying on a cross for our sins. But though he finished his part, the rest of it he left up to us, to take the Good News of salvation to every corner of the earth, to every person on the earth. If that weren’t enough, getting people born again is only the beginning. Then we must train them in the faith—a never-ending job. So when the last tile is laid, the last of the grout is buffed out, I straighten up my back, work out the kinks, look at a tile floor and say, “It’s finished,” I know I can walk away from it. It’s really done. Call me crazy if you like: nothing else in my life is like that, and I am thankful for the occasional opportunity to utter those words with satisfaction.