A Halloween Parable

It was his favorite costume. His parents gave it to him just when Halloween was becoming fun and he wore it every year after that . . . and whenever he could get away with it in between. Because he became obsessed with the costume and wore it so often, his father decided to take it away.

“Why?” he cried.

“Because you’re wearing it too often,” his father replied. “It’s starting to get in the way.”

“In the way of what?”

“In the way of you.”  

The child didn’t understand and stomped all the way up the stairs to his room. He sulked for the next few months, remembering how much fun he had wearing the costume and the way everyone responded whenever he wore it. He missed it all.

Eventually, he learned to live without the costume, but a few years later he found it hidden in his father’s closet and decided to try it on for old time’s sake. It looked and felt like he remembered, but when he held the mask to his face, he realized it no longer fit. He had grown, or it had shrunk, he thought. Even the robe was tight.

He put the costume back and never tried to put it on again. He was no longer angry at his father. Maybe he was right after all, the son thought. 

What a Wonderful World

The groom stood and went to his sister, reaching out his hand for a dance. What a Wonderful World was the selected song, and they clung to each other for dear life as they swayed back and forth. I knew enough about their stories to know that moment was poignant. The blending of music and backstory was beyond anyone’s full comprehension. 

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world 

Between them, they’d lost both parents to addiction, suffered with it themselves, been to prison and, I’m sure, endured many other hardships, but on this day, they were holding each other tight and swirling to the words and music. 

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world

 I once believed in God so my life would go my way and be wonderful. I thought an all-loving God would fill my days with rainbows, colorful reminders of God’s presence, as I made my way down the joyful and trouble-free pathway of life. It was a God of my own making, a life of my fantasy, with God “up there” and my pleasure God’s only concern. No wonder when life’s struggles arrived I struggled to survive.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you

This morning the sunrise was spectacular. Electric reds and yellows reflecting off the clouds of last night’s storm. It was the kind of morning that makes belief in God easy, and yet I realized the sunrise was spectacular because the sun reflected off the clouds from the earlier storm. The magnificence was due to a blending or sunlight and clouds.

I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world

After the music was over, the brother and sister clung to each other for a moment longer. They said nothing but spoke volumes about clouds and sunlight . . . about pain and joy . . . about forgiveness and love.

Yes, I think to myself what a wonderful world.

Unique Tables

Driving down a wintery Vermont road, I spotted two raw slabs of wood leaning against the front of a woodworker’s shop. Like a drunk to a bottle, I’m drawn to natural wood and the superior craftsmanship that often comes with it, so I told my friend to turn in. Upon entering the shop, I realized I’d hit the lottery and was soon talking with the owner about artists like George Nakashima and what can be done with slabs of wood like those at the door.

“What I want,” I explained, “is a round table with a live edge.”

“That’s not possible on round tables” he responded, “unless the live edge is somewhere in the middle, but that’ll leave a hole.”

Thus began an odyssey which was both creative and spiritual. We found two slabs of Big Leaf Maple in Oregon which were perfectly suited for our purposes and began figuring out how to use them to make this one-of-a-kind table. The grain was like a painting from van Gogh, and the live edge in the middle made it unlike any table I’d ever seen.

It’s unique. The wood has a story to tell with twist and turns, and rather than fill the irregular hole in the middle with another piece of wood or putty it remains for all to see. (The base was designed for “a school in Connecticut,” he told me, which turned out to be my high school, which is another Brushstroke!)

But now family and friends will sit at this table. My hope is that the table itself will encourage us to share the twists and turns in our grain, and the holes which, too often, we try to fill or hide. If that happens, then the tree from which the wood came will live on in new and meaningful ways. . . and so will we.

ClearLake Furniture: www.clearlakefurniture.com (Tell them Chip sent you!)