The House Without a Crew

The plans were generous.

A house with many rooms, space for gathering, space for rest, space for growth.

The builder began with conviction. The foundation was poured, and the first walls rose.

But when the time came for the heavy lifting, the crew never arrived.

The builder had always been generous, offering advice, sharing knowledge, giving his time, helping others raise their own walls.

Yet when his turn came,

when he needed the same hands he had so freely given,

the site stood empty.

Worse still, the vital parts that had been set aside for the house began to disappear.

Some were taken for other projects.

Some were wasted by those without vision, unable to see what was meant to be built.

Piece by piece, the plan was robbed of its strength.

Alone, the builder carried what he could.

Beams were hoisted, walls braced, and corners joined.

But the weight was unrelenting.

To keep the house standing, the plans had to be shrunk.

Rooms vanished.

Hallways shortened.

What was drawn wide and abundant was narrowed into something smaller.

The house stood,

but not as it was meant to.

And the builder,

though steadfast,

carried the cost in silence.

Every vision asks for many hands.

Every plan depends on shared effort and shared care.

When the crew does not show up and when they take away what is vital, the house shrinks.

And the builder suffers.

And yet, the house will still rise.

Not as first imagined, but strong in its own way.

The missing crew,

the stolen parts,

the vanished rooms,

none of these erased the builder's will to create.

Because even with less,

even when abandoned,

even when robbed of what was promised,

A builder finds a way.

A smaller house still shelters.

A narrower hall still leads forward.

And the vision, though tested, remains alive.

Don't let your vision fade.

Field Note: 

Even when generosity is met with absence, don't let your vision fade.