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!)

Growing into our Faith

“You’ll grow into it,” was my mother’s constant refrain when I looked at her through the mirror in the clothing store, pleading with my facial expression not to buy the pants that felt like pantaloons. Just once, I wondered, could I get clothes that fit? They’d be so comfortable, I imagined. I wouldn’t need to grow.

I remembered this frequent occurrence when a preacher spoke of God giving us “a crown to grow into.” I’d never heard the life of faith described in such a way, but it made me think of those times with my mother. Like then, we need to be willing to put on a faith that doesn’t fit, one we need to grow into. It means looking silly. It means being uncomfortable. I suppose, those are the prices of growth. 

How much better would it be to wear a faith that fit? We could finally be comfortable and not need to grow. We wouldn’t have to change the way we live or think. We could go to church and never feel uncomfortable. We could sit in the pew and not think anything new. (No wonder people love singing, Give me that old-time religion.) We could watch the news, talk with friends, and only affirm what we already believe. Oh, how much easier that would be!

But I know, deep down, that we were born to grow. Because we worship “a God who passes all understanding,” how can we possibly expect to remain where we are, spiritually? And yet that is what we so often desire, and what we too often do. 

So, today, I’m going to put on shoes that cause my feet to slide, pants that scrunch when I pull my belt tight, and shirts that force me to roll up my sleeves. I’ll have to live with the funny way I look, and the uncomfortable way I feel, knowing that I’ll grow into them, just like my mother, and the preacher, said.

Random Details

It began with a collection of random details: a faun, an umbrella, a sledge, and a lion (whom he first encountered in a nightmare). From them, C. S. Lewis began to tell a story that became The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. He did not set out to tell a story to explain Christianity, as I once thought. Instead, he told a story and through that story, through the random details, people have heard the story that is beyond, or beneath, all stories.

I found this information about the creation of a book I love fascinating. It did not take away from the power of the story. In fact, it added to it.

As much as our egos would love to have us believe we are the masters of our destinies, the authors of our lives, I believe, in the end, our lives are a series of random details. That is not to say they are meaningless. Quite the opposite. What I learned about C. S. Lewis and the writing of his classic tale is that through random details can come a story of profound meaning. Through our stories we can see and hear another story, the story that is beyond, or beneath, all stories.

Many mornings, I attend a meeting where those in attendance share details from their lives. On the surface, they can sound random, sordid, and far from what we sometimes call “sacred.” And yet, from those random details, out of the stories, one can hear another story, a story of forgiveness, undeserved love, grace and genuine humility. When it happens, it’s beyond inspirational.

What’s so moving, though, is not the random details, but the story that comes from them, through them. Fauns, umbrellas, sledges and lions can become so much more. So can DWI’s, lost jobs , and broken relationships. So can a phone call, written note, and a chicken pot pie. The ordinary can become extraordinary, much like bread and wine.

As I write this, sitting on the patio of my studio enjoying a beautiful fall morning, I hear a gentle breeze swirling around me. Looking up, I see that what I hear is not the wind but the sound of the leaves as the wind blows through them. Perhaps that’s what happened when C. S. Lewis wrote his story. Maybe that’s what happens as we live our lives.