This morning as I polished my Herod chair (that’s what I call it) I am reminded of when we bought it. Hubby was stationed at Lajes Field in the Azores. Not sure where we went when I noticed the chair, but I just had to have it. My love advised against it saying, “With the different moisture, in the air here and when we return to the states, I’m afraid the wooden chair will crack and split.”
This spoiled foolish self usually gets her way. I bought the chair. In my mind I pictured Marc Anthony, Julius Caesar, Cleopatra, or even Herod sitting in one very similar. We’ve all seen the same chair in the movies. The intricate carving of the chair’s arm rests and chair back reminds me of how my God created me in his likeness (Genesis 1:26). I am complex and wonderfully made.
Once the chair made it’s way to our house it was placed first in the entry way then on to the living room. Weekly I poured furniture polish on it, rubbed it in to every nook and cranny hoping it permeated the wood so it wouldn’t crack. I guess in the back of my mind I was going to prove my husband wrong.
That was thiry-eight years ago and it has weathered fine. Except for a few bumps and chips it’s taken from our moves, the chair looks great. I’ve finally placed it in our bathroom where I can sit on it every night before going to bed. Yes, I sit on it and lather up my feet with lotions each night before putting on my socks and going to bed. Oh, my, getting older is not for the weak of heart. Who would have thought, when I was younger, that my feet would be so dry when I got older!!!
Until then my friend………………………….