The Orange Chaise...the inspiration behind it all
There it waits...the orange chaise. Waiting for these stiff limbs to sink down on a chilly 6 a.m. morning. The velvet fabric faded, the cushions slightly saggy, but just right for cupping my shape.
Warm electric blanket, coffee steaming and candle burning sandalwood and myrrh. My oasis
for cold lifeless months, an island in my loft, orange like the sun, surrounded with my books and journals. I could close my eyes and almost imagine the beach...well almost.
It wasn’t always this way. The orange chaise sat in my parents’ bedroom, for as long as I can remember. Through a couple moves, it remained a fixture in their bedroom. I did my homework there...got lost in Paradise Lost, slept through Algebra, probably cried over my first broken heart. I’m not sure why it was comforting to me, even then; but I seemed to end up there a lot.
It seemed a safe place to land.
Then, I moved out, moved on. The orange chaise stayed behind. I didn’t have a clue about what I wanted for a life...only that it needed to have room for a few things...music-making, creating, loving someone, all on a very grand scale. I did think I knew what I didn’t want...problems, pain, kids that sometimes cause problems and pain, the service, the mundane, the small. Over the years, I breezed by the orange chaise in my parents' bedroom, never thinking twice about it.
It became a catch-all for laundry I think. And over the years, I caught this truth: no matter who you are, it’s not the grand-scale events and accomplishments that shape you. Those things become bright lights on your timeline, but what we really crave is the constant, warm glow. That stressful job, that toxic relationship, those crazy kids, that messy marriage, that searing loss. These are the fearful friends, that, if we let them in...change us, help us face our true face, and point us to what’s really True. And they are a window. If we open up these dark, stuffy places, we can see someone else out there just like us. Just like me. C.S. Lewis said, “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: ‘What? You too? I thought that no one but me...”
In time, Daddy passed; Mom downsized. “I’m saving the orange chaise for you!” she said. “You want it, right?” Well...not really. It’s old, it’s tired; I can’t think of anything in my house that it could remotely sit next to, and it’s...orange...but okay. It will probably collect our stuff too.
And in a funny way, it has. Collected. Me. An unwanted piece of furniture has become a steadfast witness and protector of both the dangerous and delicious life of an introverted soul. I fall into that orange chaise with gratefulness. The relief it represents. But also the wonder. On that lounge, I lounge with Jesus. I am safe, and I am inspired. I can slump and cry, pray through pain, learn new things, catch new dreams, or just...be. Past homework and high school, past laundry and collecting, in recent years the orange chaise has done more than catch me. It has quietly, comfortably re-minded me that I could be a catch-all too. I could be an orange chaise for someone else.
We can hunt for the treasure in the trauma, and open a window for someone. Light a candle.
Invite them in. Because the warm glowing life is made of countless tears over coffee, jumping-up-and-down in the driveway when a kid rides a two-wheeler, holding hands, sharing inside jokes, seeing the world in deeper colors when you realize God is real, and watching bright orange sunsets. Orange.
I am collecting now. Memories and moments I could wear holes in for all the time I’ve spent visiting them, straightening and smoothing...pressing “Play” over and over in my mind. Some that curl up the corners of my mouth, some that knock the wind out of me, some that I really don’t want to see close-up. But all of them need a safe place to land, a place where even the roughest rocks get polished and refined. A catch-all that catches me. And something tells me I need...we all need...more than an old faded chaise to do the trick. Although in lieu of a safe friend, a safe chaise could come in handy.
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