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A Peek Inside the Parsonage

It never happened before and it hasn’t happened since, but boy did I enjoy it while I could! There was a short period of time that I had a maid!  You didn’t know pastor’s made that kind of money, did you?  Well, trust me, at the time that I had this luxury it was not due to a cushy bank account!  I had just given birth to our youngest daughter and had my hands very full.  I was homeschooling my second grader, nursing a baby who took 15 minute naps, trying to keep the housework up, do the mounds of laundry (which included cloth diapers!) and cook meals for my family of four.  Needless to say, I was exhausted.  Some of you are in the midst of all that and more and you understand and feel my pain. 

I have a mother who is very compassionate, and when she realized all that was going on in my world, she insisted on paying for me to have a maid to come in and take care of me and our home for two weeks.  Wasn’t that nice of her?!  (It goes way beyond nice, but those are the terms our family uses for a sweet gesture!)  It was my responsibility to “hire” someone.  I felt like Lucy did when she was interviewing Mrs. Porter!  I’d heard that a woman that was in our church had been a professional maid, so I took her at her word and hired her to come to my home. 

It turns out she’d been a professional cleaner – not a maid, and there is a difference.  She sure did make my house shine! However, when my mom called and asked me what she fixed me for lunch, I had to fess up that cooking was not on my maid’s list.  So, I had a maid, yet still fixed my own lunches. But hey, I felt very blessed to be a young wife, and new mommy having a personal maid come and clean my little parsonage!

Was there ever a time when you got treated with something really special?

From my parsonage window,

 
P.S.  In answer to the question I posed yesterday, I’d choose the roast beef I fixed myself.  I’d end up eating it while standing at the kitchen counter anyway.  I’d nibble while working on the bank statement or next week’s menu, like I often do when I’m home alone.    I think for most of us, it’s easier to serve than to be served.

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