Furniture
Today our two younger children and I went to help my aunt and uncle move. These two are no strangers to moving; my uncle was a pastor, and I remember them living in at least five different places during my half-century lifetime. But much of their artwork has stuck with them from home to home, and as my uncle carried in a large complicated painting of broken staircases from his car, I realized that I remember that painting from each of their homes.
I even suggested that they hang it in a similar location to where it was two houses ago - on the wall you look at as you go down the stairs. They loved the suggestion, and it made me smile tenderly to think of that painting going everywhere with them since their first anniversary when they purchased it. I don’t know exactly what furniture Uncle Cliff and Aunt Faith are bringing with them from their other house, but soon enough that furniture - or newly purchased furniture - will become a part of the feel of that house.
My nephew has been on a painful and complicated journey over the past four and a half years, and one of the side-effects of the bumps in his life has led to him no longer living with his parents and two brothers.
About a month ago our family was blindsided by the news that our comfortable easy chair (AKA our beloved youth pastor) was going to change his upholstery and become a teaching pastor… at a different church. Eight and a half years with a guy in a leadership role certainly makes him feel like a solid part of your life’s rhythm.
Both of these absences have and are going to impact our kids and our family. In many families especially when the kids are young, cousins are companionable and close, almost more like siblings than cousins. Our family get-togethers are different now whether this cousin is there or whether he is not.
Youth group will feel different without Pastor Josh. We grieve that, and we know that this constant being gone from those gatherings is going to be very noticeable for a significant portion of time.
I used to think that the fragility of human relationships made them dangerous and sometimes not worth risking… that those threads that tie our hearts to other people can unexpectedly and suddenly choke us and make it hard to breathe when there are changes. As I confessed to someone in an e-mail the other day,
I have a hard time making friends. I am not friendly. I know that about myself. I carry a shield with me into people encounters. I protect my heart. I don't say much in small groups or Bible studies. I hold back. I am reserved. It takes a lot to get me to open up. A lot of time. A lot of trust.
This quality that I have developed as a result of a history of having “chairs” pulled out from under me earlier in my life - people that I thought were constants and trustworthy proving to be precisely the opposite.
However, I have learned by watching other people love each other that a more healthy approach is to embrace the time that I am gifted with these people that matter to me and to value the opportunities that I have to deepen our relationships, all the while being aware that there are seasons in life and in friendships.
Even though my loyal soul hates the adage “All good things must come to an end”, and I hate and dread change, I think that savoring the closeness while it’s available and looking for ways to nurture it even when close to ideal circumstances change is a more rewarding and encouraging motivator to deal with a change in furniture.
In spite of understanding this in my head, it’s still having trouble transferring into my heart, and I find myself instead turning to feeling even more grateful for my more permanent fixtures such as my parents, my husband, and my children. I am determined not to take them for granted or to not see them anymore because they are so much a part of my constant routine.
Tish Harrison Warren speaks of how this kind of ordinary and everyday love nurtures daily habits of peace that can translate into spilling into our community around us. As I think about my impatience with a daughter’s messiness today or annoyance with a son’s repeated questions regarding something related to food, I bow my head in remorse over my reaction to one of the kids starting our van as a hint to me to stop talking to my mom as he or she was ready to GO HOME.
My contribution to the peace in this part of the world today was not substantial. My efforts to make this world a more tranquil place to exist were in practicality a dismal failure. May God work in my heart tomorrow to remind me of my own written reflections tonight; may I not take for granted each day I am given with my precious people. May I love them deeply and well, and my interactions with them be tender and precious and compassionate.
John 13:34-35
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
As I head up to bed tonight, may I fall asleep reminding myself of this Gospel truth. I want to have people recognize me as Jesus’ student and never question what school I am attending as a lifelong student because of the way that I live my life. May I be blessed with an extra dose of patience tomorrow as I love my furniture and see it through intentional and aware eyes.
