Cake and Tea - And the Business of Putting People Back Together

by Amy

It wasn’t servile work they did at the Manoir Bellechasse, Pierre knew. It was noble and crucial. They put people back together. Though some, he knew, were more broken than others.

 

I love this paragraph.

I’ve loved it since the first time I read it.

I remember thinking, how very true…

How someone does a job is as important as what job a person has. Every interaction with another human being, especially one who is fragile, vulnerable or hurting, can be decisive and essential. We may unknowingly be the agent of change in someone else’s life.

I recently heard a testimony about a wonderful man. He wanted to be a minister, but he was unable to attend ministry school. He became a janitor. He dedicated his life to serve and help anyone he could. As a janitor. It wasn’t servile work, just as the work at Manoir Bellechasse wasn’t.

It was noble and crucial. They put people back together.

When he died (and his son, a minister, choked back tears as he told the story), there was a seemingly never-ending line of people who came to pay their respects. Each and every one had a story to tell about the janitor who had counseled them, ministered to them, listened to them, guided them, taught them… put them back together.

Not everyone was made for this work.

Not everyone is in the business of putting people back together.

I am. At least I think I am. If I’m not, it’s where I want to be. It’s who I yearn to be remembered as.

Months ago, I posted about my “in between” cocoon phase. Much like Gamache’s “time of stillness”, in which he was interrupted and sucked into the frenzy of Clara’s quest, I too have been living a time of “stillness” and reflection and soul searching amidst a whirlwind of events and craziness and never-ending to do lists. In my post (HERE) I posed a series of questions to myself.

That’s one of my answers: regardless of what my “job” is, regardless of whether it’s apparently menial or servile, I am in the business of putting people back together. And, like Pierre, like the janitor in the minister’s story, it doesn’t very much matter what form it takes, any task can be performed with an overreaching goal that is noble and essential.

Elliot wasn’t. 

"I was just having some fun.”

Elliot said it was though it were reasonable to stand in the middle of the crowded, busy kitchen mocking the guests, and the maître d’ was the unreasonable one. Pierre could feel his rage rising. He looked around.

The large old kitchen was the natural gathering place for the staff. Even the gardeners were there, eating cakes and drinking tea and coffee. And watching his humiliation at the hands of a nineteen-year-old. He’s young, Pierre said to himself. He’s young. But he’d said it so often it had become meaningless.

He knew he should let it go. 

“You were making fun of the guests.”

“Only one. Oh, come on, she’s ridiculous. Excusez-moi, but I think he got more coffee than I did. Excusez-moi, but is this the best seat? I asked for the best seat. Excusez-moi, I don’t mean to be difficult, but I did order before they did. Where’s my celery stick?” 

Titters, quickly stifled, filled the warm kitchen. 

It was a good imitation. Even in his anger the maître d’ recognized Sandra’s smooth, cool whine. Always asking for a little bit more. Elliot might not be a natural waiter, but he had an uncanny ability to see people’s faults. And magnify them. And mock them. It was a gift not everyone would find attractive.

Two things strike me about this scene.

One is that Pierre is much less mature and sure of himself than Gamache. We have seen similar instances where agents ridiculed suspects or witnesses and Gamache summarily stopped them. He didn’t even feel humiliated when young agents intentionally ridiculed him. He was a bigger man than that. He was sure of his ground.

Pierre has the right idea, but he’s more vulnerable and less self-assured than Gamache.

The second is that it’s not enough to see people. Elliot saw. He saw people’s faults. He magnified them. To be in the business of building up you can’t be unaware. It’s not a lack of perception or insight. It’s the ability to see beyond the faults. 

It isn’t enough to see people.

We have to see beyond the faults. We have to decode faults and find reasons. We have to reach understanding or acceptance.

It wasn’t servile work they did at the Manoir Bellechasse, Pierre knew. It was noble and crucial. They put people back together. Though some, he knew, were more broken than others.

Let us all bear in mind that all interaction with others is noble and crucial and can change someone’s day. Little things that add up. Or, as in this post (HERE), it is about faithfulness in little things.

I tried out a new recipe. It’s from (HERE). I’d been meaning to try it for some time. Hints of rosemary, apple and lemon? What could go wrong? Mine wasn’t half as lovely looking as hers is, but it was delicious all the same. I made two. One for my own home and one for a lovely friend who is spectacular at all the little things and makes everyone feel special and loved.

All quotes are from A RULE AGAINST MURDER by Louise Penny