Once upon a time there was a woman that loved to bake pies. She baked pies for years and years growing up, through her married life for her husband, for her children. She loved baking pies. There were all kinds of complements throughout the years as she got better and better at her craft.
When she was just a little girl the “baking bug” bit her and it never let go.
One of the things she loved most about baking pies was the feeling of giving love to those she loved. Her pies were made from the best ingredients. She toiled over them, always with a smile. She felt she was sharing something deep inside her as what she made was so loved by the ones she loved. It was obvious she loved baking pies.
But something happened.
As she got older people from all through her social life, even casual acquaintances, started saying something that tainted her love affair with baking pies.
The request might be expressed differently by different people but it went something like this, “Bake me a pie. I’ll pay for the ingredients. I know how much you love baking pies, so bake me one.” She felt guilty saying no. Imagine how she felt when the person that got the pie flinched at the cost of the ingredients a really good pie demands.
“We’re having a fundraiser. We know how much you love baking pies. How about you bake some pies for the fundraiser … you know … do your part.” She felt guilty saying no. Imagine how she felt when people at the fundraiser priced her pies lower than the cost of the ingredients. Imagine how she felt when people passing by the pie table made the occasional comments that were not as supportive as her excellence deserved.
She felt bad. Long ago my Dad told me, “There are two things you can do to a person that will really hurt them, insult their intelligence and/or be inconsiderate.” She was feeling as if she was on the receiving end of both of those terrible actions.
She needed to feel better. She decided to revamp her root cellar/pantry. She had always had ideas about how she wanted a door like the ones on old farm outbuildings on her little room she used for a pantry. She certainly could use new shelving and maybe some of those pull out bins. She had always envisioned a carving of the family crest on the door. It was time to lift her spirits and do something about it.
She thought and thought, then it came to her. She called a man she knew from Church. She told him what she wanted and said, “I’d be happy to pay for the materials, I know you like doing stuff like this.”
As Kurt Vonnegut often said, “And so it goes.”
-- Chance Four "Not Just a Second Chance"