My thanks to Diane Levy of Auckland, New Zealand B.Sc., Dip.Sec.Sch.Tchg., MNZAC,                 

I was reading an article in December's Fortune Magazine entitled "Why do we work?"  It began with the following story:

"In the days of misty towers, distressed maidens, and stalwart knights, a young man, walking along the road, came upon a labourer fiercely pounding away at a stone with a hammer and chisel.  The lad asked the worker, who looked frustrated and angry, "What are you doing?"  The labourer answered in a pained voice.  "I am trying to shape this stone, and it is backbreaking work."

The youth continued his journey and soon came upon another man chipping away at a similar stone, who looked neither particularly angry nor happy.  "What are you doing?" he asked.  I'm shaping a stone for a building." 

The young man went on and before long came to a third worker chipping away at a stone, but this worker was singing happily as he worked.  "What are you doing?"  The worker smiled and replied, "I am building a cathedral."

The article's byline to "Why do we work?" is "Sure, it's for money."  But more and more people, realising that's not all there is to life, are embarking on a new search for meaning in corporate America."

Well, I have news for the author, Brian Dumaine.  We, the mothers of New Zealand and, I suspect, those mothers who spawned "corporate America," have known for a long time that no-one could pay us enough money for the work we do.  Further, the reason that we work so hard and so willingly, is because every day we are "building cathedrals."

Raising a child to independent adulthood is cathedral-building work.  Just like the labourer chipping away looking frustrated and angry, a lot of our work can be thought of as tedious, repetitive, unappreciated and backbreaking.  

You will notice that I did not include the word "soul-destroying."  That is because, like the third labourer, we choose not to itemise our Job Description into categories like nose-wiping, nappy changing, shouting orders, night-watchman, spell-checker, door monitor, puddle-soaker-extraordinaire.  We see the overview.  We are working towards the completion of our cathedrals.

When next you visit a cathedral, give some thought, not only to the architect and the project manager, but also to the many artisans without whom the project could not have been completed.

When next you see a child, an adolescent, an adult, or any half-way decent human being, remember the architect, the project manager, and the artisans, all of whom are wrapped into one person  who answers to the call of "Mu-u-u-m."

And when next you see me cuddling my child, don't be surprised if I say "Sh-h-h-h! I'm building a cathedral!"

Diane Levy is a Family Therapist, Speaker and Cathedral-Builder.  Two of her cathedrals are 99% complete and the third is about half-way there.

Addendum:  You may like a follow-up on my article on "Peace of Mind," where Deborah pranced around in the rain, and I congratulated myself on the return to the good and simple things in life.

When the next downpour came about a fortnight later, Deborah begged "Can I go out in the rain again, Mummy?  It's the best thing I have ever done."  My feeling of Earth-Mother-smugness was interrupted three minutes later by ear-splitting shrieks.  Deborah had been stung by a wet wasp.  She now has a heavy cold!