Unfinished Stories… the couch & I

by Ginny

by GinnyMay 26, 2013

it has value still.  something that was once cast aside sits at the bottom of my staircase, just under the windows.  whoever owned our couch before we did… i wish they could pop into our madness and see the folds of upholstery surrounded by so much life.  hazel does backbend walk-overs off the side of it.  anders loves to pull the cushions from their appropriate spot because a couch is apparently more fun without cushions.  the kids stand on it and look out to bunny rabbits hopping in the front yard.  they smell dinner in the oven and feel it in their bones that dad is about to be home from work.  i sit there in the stillness of early morning and watch the sun peep in across the living room, asking God to give me extra measures of patience with it all today.  when lena can’t sleep and we hear her noises and tossing and turning, one of us ends up sleeping on that old couch.  matt sits there in the morning to lace up his cons before heading to work and anders begs for one last hug and kiss on that couch before matt walks out.  it has been a pirate ship and an audience and a library.

the couch is old.  it seems to have found us.  i walked into a vintage clothing shop and there it was right in the center of the store.  one of the only pieces of furniture surrounded by carefully selected thrift store clothes turned funky fashion.  i assumed it was not for sale.  but i mentioned to the shop-owner how much i liked it & she sold it to me right then and there.

it has gold upholstery fabric that is obviously synthetic.  i bet synthetic fabric was all the rage in ’56.  i bet the one who was the first to own this couch loved it for a long time before sometime around ’82 when it didn’t quite go with their tight-rolled jeans and seagulled hair.  the story was done.

it’s funny how something like a couch can tell us so much about how God works.  we are taught that stories have a beginning and an ending and then the book is closed and put back on the shelf.  you buy a couch.  you use it.  you get rid of it.

but that’s not really the whole story is it?

the couch was someone’s idea.  then someone else had to help make that idea a reality.  then someone else had to sell it and someone else had to own it and then get rid of it and then someone else found it and then i bought it and now it’s the backdrop of our life and i try 10 times a day to protect it from utter toddler destruction.

and it goes on and on and on and why don’t we see our lives this way?

why, when a friend says i don’t feel any hope in this moment…why do i believe them, when that moment is but a vapor?

in the course of my day as a mom of 3 young children if i don’t glance out at the whole story, His whole story of great purpose and beauty, i will drown in the moments of milk splashed in the eye and crushed tortilla chips underfoot.

but moments can never encompass the whole story and i take notes on the lifeless couch that someone else gave up on and manage to find great hope in the fact that the story is still unfolding for us both.

[ts_fab]

154 Comments

  1. Anita Wyatt on May 28, 2013 at 7:22 am

    Ginny,

    Thank you so much for sharing yourself-your thoughts and your realness. Thank you for the reminder to see past the dishes, toys and laundry. Just what I needed to hear on this morning!
    Much love to you and your family!!!



  2. Josh Bell on May 29, 2013 at 7:47 pm

    Thank you, Gin. So good.



it has value still.  something that was once cast aside sits at the bottom of my staircase, just under the windows.  whoever owned our couch before we did… i wish they could pop into our madness and see the folds of upholstery surrounded by so much life.  hazel does backbend walk-overs off the side of it.  anders loves to pull the cushions from their appropriate spot because a couch is apparently more fun without cushions.  the kids stand on it and look out to bunny rabbits hopping in the front yard.  they smell dinner in the oven and feel it in their bones that dad is about to be home from work.  i sit there in the stillness of early morning and watch the sun peep in across the living room, asking God to give me extra measures of patience with it all today.  when lena can’t sleep and we hear her noises and tossing and turning, one of us ends up sleeping on that old couch.  matt sits there in the morning to lace up his cons before heading to work and anders begs for one last hug and kiss on that couch before matt walks out.  it has been a pirate ship and an audience and a library.

the couch is old.  it seems to have found us.  i walked into a vintage clothing shop and there it was right in the center of the store.  one of the only pieces of furniture surrounded by carefully selected thrift store clothes turned funky fashion.  i assumed it was not for sale.  but i mentioned to the shop-owner how much i liked it & she sold it to me right then and there.

it has gold upholstery fabric that is obviously synthetic.  i bet synthetic fabric was all the rage in ’56.  i bet the one who was the first to own this couch loved it for a long time before sometime around ’82 when it didn’t quite go with their tight-rolled jeans and seagulled hair.  the story was done.

it’s funny how something like a couch can tell us so much about how God works.  we are taught that stories have a beginning and an ending and then the book is closed and put back on the shelf.  you buy a couch.  you use it.  you get rid of it.

but that’s not really the whole story is it?

the couch was someone’s idea.  then someone else had to help make that idea a reality.  then someone else had to sell it and someone else had to own it and then get rid of it and then someone else found it and then i bought it and now it’s the backdrop of our life and i try 10 times a day to protect it from utter toddler destruction.

and it goes on and on and on and why don’t we see our lives this way?

why, when a friend says i don’t feel any hope in this moment…why do i believe them, when that moment is but a vapor?

in the course of my day as a mom of 3 young children if i don’t glance out at the whole story, His whole story of great purpose and beauty, i will drown in the moments of milk splashed in the eye and crushed tortilla chips underfoot.

but moments can never encompass the whole story and i take notes on the lifeless couch that someone else gave up on and manage to find great hope in the fact that the story is still unfolding for us both.

[ts_fab]

154 Comments

  1. Anita Wyatt on May 28, 2013 at 7:22 am

    Ginny,

    Thank you so much for sharing yourself-your thoughts and your realness. Thank you for the reminder to see past the dishes, toys and laundry. Just what I needed to hear on this morning!
    Much love to you and your family!!!



  2. Josh Bell on May 29, 2013 at 7:47 pm

    Thank you, Gin. So good.