In loving memory
Ref died this morning.
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Says who?
- John
- Key West, Conch Republic
- But enough about me. (Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.) What about you? Where is your Oz? ■ ■ ■ You can click on most photos for larger views, then simply go BACK. ■ ■ email: suenitos at gmail dot com ■
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2006
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October
(41)
- Enough
- Wallbanger
- Dusky magic
- Busy, busy, busy
- Monday morning traffic
- Hangin' loose
- Rain / Shine
- It's crazy out there
- Ready to rock
- Getting it done
- Good night, girl
- Quite a reach
- Loving Lena
- Push comes to shove on insulation
- Holding my nose
- A wet one
- Too much junk, not enough noo
- Sending flowers
- So near, and yet so far . . .
- Blue-light special
- L'heure bleue
- Standing in for the fridge
- Clear sailing?
- Perfect timing
- A time to weep, and a time to laugh
- A thing of beauty
- Good courage
- Reffard Elijah Stafford Jr.
- Getting ready
- E pluribus unum
- Good fences, Version 2.1
- Grace notes
- The therapy of work
- In loving memory
- Primed and ready
- Capital idea
- Whee!
- The Watsons' view
- Rollin'
- Cool hue
- That should do it
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October
(41)
1 comment:
The Sisters of Loretto, whose determination had led them from Kentucky to Santa Fe, faced a challenge greater than their journey - a stairway that couldn't be built because there was no room. The best carpenters in the area all shook their heads, declaring it impossible to build a stairway in the tiny chapel. What the nuns DREAMED OF and what they COULD DO were separated by fifteen impossible feet.
What to do? Well, they decided to pray. For nine days in fact. On the ninth day, a Mexican carpenter with a beard and wind-burned face appeared at the convent. He offered his services, having heard they needed a stairway to the chapel loft. The mother superior had nothing to lose, so she gave him permission.
For the next eight months the unknown carpenter worked painstakingly. One morinng, the Sisters of Loretto entered the chapel to find their prayers had been answred. A masterpiece of carpentry spiraled from the floor to the loft. Two complete 360 degree turns. Thirty-three steps held together with wooden pegs and no central support. The wood was hard fir, which was nonexistent in New Mexico.
When the siters turned to thank the craftman, he was gone. In fact, they never saw him again. He never asked for money. He never asked for praise. He was a simple carpenter who did what no one else coud do so the singers could enter a choir loft and sing.
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