Finish Carpentry

I used to believe that the little molding at the bottom (and sometimes the top) of walls was just a decorative accent. Then we remodeled a home we were living in and I learned the harsh truth: molding covers the places where the walls and the floors don’t meet quite perfectly.
And of course, the walls and the floors hardly ever meet perfectly. Tiny mis-measurement in one corner is magnified by the time you get to the other corner. Or little shifts in the foundation put everything slightly askew. Or a worker is not quite as careful in installing plumbing or wiring or lighting as might be wished, and things are knocked a bit out of line.
It would be a shame if all those little oddities were obvious – so we cover them up with molding and half round and sometimes caulk and paint.
I do the same thing when I am making stoles for ministers. It is hard to get the hems exactly even and straight if they are handsewn – so I don’t sew them by hand. I cover the bottom edges with fringe, which has the bonus of adding a little weight so the stoles hang gracefully when they are worn.
Ceremonies are another kind of finish carpentry. Going to school can be a messy business with setbacks and disappointments along the way. Graduation covers them up with robes, speeches, and pageantry. Courtships (to use an old fashioned word) have their ups and downs, but weddings more or less disguise all of the complexities of love with music, flowers, and banquets. Even retirement can be a mixed blessing, gracefully hidden by cake, balloons, and good-bye gifts.
Every day etiquette is another example – we cover up the rough edges of our relationships and interactions with “please” and “thank you.”
Still, even wide molding cannot cover up poor workmanship or shoddy materials, and no ceremony or etiquette can repair deep wounds or estrangement. Finish carpentry only works because it finishes a process that began solidly with the basics. It makes good work look even better.

Prayer: Gracious God, help us to build healthy relationships and strong connections, so that only a little finish carpentry is needed. Amen.


Before it was a verb, “interfacing” was the stiffening fabric that goes inside a garment to give it body and crispness.

I use a particular kind of interfacing in the stoles I make for my small business, Woman of the Cloth.  It is called “hair canvas” and it is a blend of several fibers, including 4% horse hair.  It is used in the collars and lapels of good quality jackets and coats and it costs almost as much as the beautiful cotton fabrics that are visible in a finished stole.

But the beautiful fabrics that are visible could not do the job without the interfacing hidden inside.  The hair canvas gives them substance, helps them to hang evenly, and insures that they will last for many years.

Sermons have interfacing, too – the study and reflection that the preacher does before composing a single sentence.  It may not be obvious to the listener that there were hours of research and several discarded drafts, but it is because the pastor has invested time and heart in those that the sermon has strength, coherence, and impact.

Once you start looking for it, interfacing is everywhere:  teachers put it in their lesson plans and lectures, carpenters put it in their framing, musicians in their practice, authors in their editing, hostesses in their cooking … a lot of things depend upon sturdy internal scaffolding.

When people buy a stole, they are always choosing a fabric that they love.  But what they are buying is just decorated interfacing.


Prayer:   Gracious God, we thank you for the sturdy internal scaffolding that makes things strong and beautiful.  Be present in our lives like interfacing, making our work strong and beautiful, whatever it is.  Amen.