Way back in 1967-68 I've been told that I sold lemonade or perhaps Koo-lade to the tradesmen who where building our church, I have no recollection of this because I was so young that I would have barely been out of diapers. The church was within view of my house, it was a building that I took for granted. I saw it every day, every Sunday morning I sat in a pew and twiddle my thumbs.
Over the years my work has placed me on many construction sites. I've been around carpenters, painters, electricians, cable pullers, carpet layers.
glaziers, masons, caulkers, roofers, framers... Most of the jobs I've been on were in the Toronto area, Toronto is possibly the most ethnically diverse city on the planet. The odd things is that these guys all speak the same language, that is to say they swear. Obscenity, profanity and blasphemy is the international language of construction.
So different are the tradesman of my imagined memory. The builders of my church, drinkers of my lemonade. Pious were they all, journeymen, apprentice and labour. The carpenter ever mindful that he followed in the craft of his master and saviour would hang a door, if it did not quite fit he would take it down and ask his apprentice to plane the edge. The apprentice would inquire, "How much Sir, how much shall I remove"? "Just a little son", The carpenter would say, "Just the thickness of an angel hair".
Friday, January 2, 2009
International Language
Way back in 1967-68 I've been told that I sold lemonade or perhaps Koo-lade to the tradesmen who where building our church, I have no recollection of this because I was so young that I would have barely been out of diapers. The church was within view of my house, it was a building that I took for granted. I saw it every day, every Sunday morning I sat in a pew and twiddle my thumbs.
Over the years my work has placed me on many construction sites. I've been around carpenters, painters, electricians, cable pullers, carpet layers.
glaziers, masons, caulkers, roofers, framers... Most of the jobs I've been on were in the Toronto area, Toronto is possibly the most ethnically diverse city on the planet. The odd things is that these guys all speak the same language, that is to say they swear. Obscenity, profanity and blasphemy is the international language of construction.
So different are the tradesman of my imagined memory. The builders of my church, drinkers of my lemonade. Pious were they all, journeymen, apprentice and labour. The carpenter ever mindful that he followed in the craft of his master and saviour would hang a door, if it did not quite fit he would take it down and ask his apprentice to plane the edge. The apprentice would inquire, "How much Sir, how much shall I remove"? "Just a little son", The carpenter would say, "Just the thickness of an angel hair".
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2 comments:
Peter, this photo is perfect for ETHEREAL. it definitely fits one of the definitions that is listed on that blog. i'd love to feature it some day. but then we would have to interview you. are you shy when it comes to that kind of thing? :)
i liked this post very much. i liked to read your impressions here. and i enjoyed how you have tied the carpenter theme together very eloquently.
my papa was a carpenter his whole life—until he died at 71. when he was a younger man, he and my mom used to go to a church in Chicago. as Christians, they felt led to invite neighbors to church if the opportunity arose. there was a slightly younger couple that lived down the street from them, and my mom had become friends with the wife. my mom invited this friend, Alma, to go to church with them, but this neighbor's husband wanted nothing to do with it.
so, one day when the three of them were at church, Al (the husband) went to do something in the front yard (get the paper or something??)
when he went to go back inside, he said the wind strangely pulled the door shut, and he was locked out of the house. he was so mad—especially since it forced him to have to go to the church to find his wife so he could get the key from her. but he had no car, so he had to walk there, and was not happy!
he got to the church, and my father was still in the foyer, so he went up and asked my dad if he could go get the key from Alma. my dad was happy to do so, and then my father did what he did best while he was on this earth—he went the extra mile and told Al that he would drive him back home and see to it that he got in okay.
Al was very grateful for my father's kindness and he accepted the offer humbly.
After they got to the house and Al got in, my dad said, "Why don't you come back with me to church?" Al had not even gotten properly dressed for going anywhere, but my dad said he would wait. So Al decided to go. He really liked it, and they all hit it off as friends. Both Al and Alma went back week after week. One week, after the pastor gave an invitation to become a Christian, Al, who was in the last pew, walked up to the front to accept the Lord as his Savior. my dad was the hymn leader, so he was up at the front. as Al walked down, he saw that my dad had tears in his eyes at the sight of Al coming forward.
now, i would never have remembered that story except for the fact that Al got up at my dad's memorial service two and a half years ago and told it. there was not a dry eye among the hundreds there. but then Al finished by saying, "little did i know that day, that i would meet two carpenters that would change my life." i just about lost it at that point. it was the most moving thing i ever experienced, for i knew that my father had no greater desire than to share the hope and salvation that he knew, and to lead others to Christ. this was such a testimony to my father and who he was.
anyway, thank so much for this post.
you say your ideas and photos are humble—that may be, but they are also really really good. truly.
i look forward to these posts every single day.
(ps. someday i will tell you what great little business women my sister and i were as children—not with lemonade, but with candy. we were making a killing! i don't know how i'm not rich today.)
:)
Your Dad sounds like he was a really charitable guy. Doing good things for people, putting himself out, that's a tough thing to be consistent with. I think that your dad must have discovered a secret, that giving people a boost in turn gives you a boost. It sounds to me like your Papa was a kindness junkie.
Kindness the perfect drug, zero calories and it's easy on the liver. :)
Short reply I know, usually I can't be shut up, but this kid needs a nap!
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