Benches

Benches require extra effort. 

Extraordinary things happen on benches. 

Nobody ends up on the bench by accident. 

I want a life of benches.

Some explanation.  A recollection.  When my sister and I were growing up in New Jersey we lived in a 4 bedroom colonial with a dining room.  In this dining room was a big table, 4 chairs and a bench.  My mom called it a deacons bench.  My sister and I called it "the thing we were required to share whenever we had company because they got the chairs".  Sharing a bench with your sister requires extra effort…on everybody’s part.  There’s little more fighting.  And a little more collaboration.  There are moments of angst when you have to work together to get it pulled in far enough to reach the table.  And moments of secret cahoots when there are some hidden things going on under the table that the grown ups don’t know about.  Two extra chairs might have been easier on many occasions, but our mom put us on the bench.  Work it out girls.  Figure out a how to help each other girls.  Girls what’s going on over there?  Sometimes you don’t see the results right away.  The results of your time on the bench. 

Benches require extra effort. 

Extraordinary things happen on benches. 

Nobody ends up on the bench by accident. 

I want a life of benches.

Some more explanation.  Another recollection.  When I was a new mom, and my first was my only and she was just barely walking we started venturing to the park.  I remember the benches at this little park in Washington.  Off to the edges.  In the shade...the glorious shade.  As I chased my little one around the park…Don’t put that in your mouth sweetie…Yes I’ll put you in the slide sweetie…Here I am sweetie, at the bottom of this great big cavernous slide...I couldn’t fathom what those benches could possibly be for.  Who sits on those?  Fast forward 7 years and now there are three girls.  Three little girls who run and jump and slide.  Three little girls who were followed by me and boosted by me and pushed on the swings by me.  Three little girls with confidence and independence and the ability to pump themselves on the swings.  No young mother can truly fathom how your life at the park changes when they can pump themselves on the swings.  These days I sit on the bench.  The bench that I worked for so many years to get myself to.  I sit on the bench and sometimes chat with other moms who have earned their spot on the bench.  And sometimes just sit on the bench, off to one side, so people know I’m open to sharing the space with another who has earned it. 

Benches require extra effort. 

Extraordinary things happen on benches. 

Nobody ends up on the bench by accident. 

I want a life of benches.

I want a life of intention.  Of effort.  Of glorious moments of sharing a space with another person because I mean to.  Of putting up with a bit of the bad to end up with some good.  Of choosing the extra effort because it’s worth it.  Of not always seeing the results right away but knowing that they’re coming. 

I want a life of benches.