Eighteen chairs seemed like an awful lot, so I counted three times to make sure. The girls joined in, walking from room to room shouting out a number for each chair they found. They squealed in delight when they opened a closet only to find another chair or two hidden behind the door. “Yep Mum! There really are 18. Isn’t that impressive?” “Absolutely!” I shouted back. “What did they do with them all?” My youngest asked, her brow furrowing. “Have people over I think,” her sister replied. “A whole bunch of people.” I expect there are many homes with far more than eighteen chairs. However these chairs furnished a ground floor apartment that was no more than 900 square feet. Subtract a bathroom and kitchen from that space allotment and eighteen seating spaces became more impressive.
The apartment was modest and unassuming much like the couple who had previously lived there. Eighty’s wall paper graced the dining area and the décor tended towards vintage. But on certain evenings, all the chairs were filled as this gracious couple hosted a prayer meeting in their building. Friends and family would fill the little flat and take their seats to pray. When I first entered their space I wept, the presence of the Lord more evident in that humble home than churches I had visited. In the Lord’s providence and my desperation, I came to live in their space after they had died and graduated heavenward. I can’t honestly say that I remember a great deal from that time. Life was such a struggle, I have put those days behind a curtain in my mind and I don’t poke around there if I can help it. They have been left to age like wine in a cellar. I’m hoping the passage of time will enrich my understanding and cause me to appreciate their value. The eighteen chairs though, have stayed with me.
Loss is a difficult emotion to navigate. When something or someone important is taken away, grief is the emotional result. Factors such as support, culture and religion can help or hinder the process. Countless books have been written about ways to navigate this universal experience but at some point, the bereaved has to make a choice to reenter their community without their former possession. One has to bear the badge of loss humbly and try again. It takes courage and humility.
Summer is a delightful time for many. The heat, lack of schedule and opportunity for outdoor adventures cause delight. For some, it brings an element of panic as beachwear comes back into vogue. For my friend, summer was a trial she dreaded for months. Thinking about it caused the back of her throat to constrict and ache, hot tears flowed before words were even formed.
The mastectomy in fall was difficult. She had recovered though the support of family and had even accepted the term “self-care” as part of her vocabulary. Comfy sweatshirts gave way to long sleeve shirts and as days warmed tee shirts were reintroduced with care. The need for a swim suit though, caused such pain in her heart she swore her scar ached. The loss throbbed in her psyche. Somehow, she had to face the beach and her altered form.
Another man feels the sting of humiliation when he enters his church. He steels himself as he reaches for the door, the loneliness pushed aside as he steps behind the Teflon wall in his mind. He shakes hands and smiles as his community greets him, yet at times he is so angry he can barely speak. The dissolution of the marriage had been public. The counselling was going well and he was certain by winter his family would reunite. If you asked him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you why the process had faltered. Doing everything he was told didn't yield the results he prayed for and he was left embarrassed and confused. Holidays were closing in and his life group were going out of their way to invite him to dinners and services. He was doing the best he knew how but after driving home from these events, he sat in his driveway and cried.
Recovery from loss takes time and often months and years are the units of measure. I am two years into my own restoration process and I still find myself wincing in as I struggle to move forward. Whenever tears threaten to spill over, I focus my attention on the eighteen chairs. This couple didn’t spend time wishing they had a bigger place to live. They didn’t waste time fussing over what people thought of them. They were too busy living. When times were difficult, they prayed and when there someone in need, they invited them into their lives and added another chair.
So I’m praying for you if loss is weighing heavy on your heart this week. May God give you eyes for where you are headed, not where you have been. That you might know your embarrassment is not a life sentence, it is a stage you are moving through as you seek to stand in His grace. I pray you will understand that though your loss feels colossal, God will continue to work His grace in your life so that it will shrink in the light of his glory. More importantly, I’m praying that God will give you the ability to see those who are suffering as you have. That in your grief you might invite them to pull up a chair so that you can pray for them.
And then I’m going to pray that you too, will need more chairs.
May God bless you richly this week,
xoxKaren
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