I'm reading a book set in the Middle Ages in England. The monks at the Priory have become rather hedonistic. A minor miracle has occurred and now the courtyard is thronged with the crippled and infirm.
One of the monks says, ""We never had to bother with pilgrims and penitents before,' he lamented. 'Hexham's long been off the pilgrim trail, you know. And no one ever wanted Mass said, save on Sunday. We canons had the peace and solitude to dispatch our duties.'"
Made me think-- when I am trying to serve, when I am caring for my family, how many times am I frustrated at the intrusion of the actual PEOPLE I'm supposed to be serving? It can so easily become about what we are doing rather than for whom we are doing it.
I think I especially fall into this in my role as mother. Fixing dinner, washing clothes, don't bother me now.
The quote is from Murder on Good Friday by Sara Conway