A Tale of 4 Chairs

I love making old things new. There is a deep, abiding comfort in redeeming something. The life of Jesus was all about a redemption project. I've concluded that it is simply gratifying to restore something to its original luster, the beauty it was originally created to display.

My sister-in-law and her mother are excellent at redeeming things. They see the hidden value under the chipping layers of paint and gaudy 80's fabric. But me? I profess to be able to do it. I look at something and with the arrogance of a school girl, I flip my hair nonchalantly and proclaim with utter confidence, 'I'll just paint it. No problem.' But on the inside I am the shy school girl hiding in the back of the class, petrified that the teacher is actually going to call on her. The confident school girl always beats out the shy one when I am in the store contemplating buying something tattered but promising. It is when I get home that I face the demons of inexperience, lack of know-how, and inadequate funds to support my new 'redemption' project.

Furnishing our little home has been a priority for me over the last few months. We sold most of our furniture before leaving California. It didn't make sense to lug it across country, rent a large truck to carry it all, and risk having it ruined by the 3000+ mile trip from sea to shining sea.

So, we sold everything except the beds. Every. Last. Bit. Of. It.

Once we landed in our own home, we began to unpack and take inventory of the empty corners and bare rooms. Eating on the floor got old really quickly. Thus commenced the searching process. I became a religious lurker of the local Goodwill and Craigslist.

Slowly but surely the home began to take shape. The living room was filling out nicely. I had a dining room table but no chairs. And I was kind of picky about what I wanted. I was about ready to throw in the towel and give up when my mom came to visit.

I remember the day I first met them. It was a hot, sunny day in October. My mom and I were on a mission to find my dining room chairs and some patio furniture. We strolled casually into the Goodwill a couple miles from my home. This place is a virtual treasure trove. And this day did not disappoint.

Sitting there awkwardly were four white chairs, each facing a different direction as if they'd lost their way and each was trying to figure out which direction to take home. As I neared them I noticed they were the exact style I had been envisioning...rustic, farmhouse style, spindle-back chairs. Slapped haphazardly on one of them was a sign reading '4 chairs for 25.99'. Looking closer I could almost detect a shade of pink as they blushed in embarrassment from being sold for so little. I stepped up to them, bent down, and in a hushed whisper, with a satisfied grin I told them they were coming home with me.

They were instantly white again, I swear.

My mother and I quickly rounded up these four chairs, a few outdoor pieces of furniture, and a slew of lamps. Ecstatic from our finds, we shoved it all into her hatchback and headed home, our hands out the window, singing a gleeful song about our good(will) fortune. I may have even heard humming from the rear.

From that point on, the story is rather drab. Or at least predictable to anybody who has ever done this 'makeover' type of thing. Chairs sanded. Paint purchased. Paint applied. Paint not quite right and returned for a different type. Second purchase is much better. Paint goes on in layers. Much time elapses between coats. Long story short...it has been three months and all the chairs are complete, as of last week. Well, actually two chairs need one more coat. It will happen, some day.

They do look lovely, in case you were wondering. Instead of begging, Somebody please take us home!, these chairs proudly proclaim, Take a seat and stay a while. Enjoy a savory meal. Talk about love and life. I am a rustic farmhouse chair. It is my duty to serve you.

Sure, the work was considerable, and the cost was steep for my budget. But when I look at these ladies, I know it was all worth it. They are black and beautiful. Not a trace of pink, I promise.