For Wilshire Baptist Church
Today a man came to the house to pick up a large stuffed chair that we’re having reupholstered for one of our guest rooms. It’s been in storage for 20 years but I grew up seeing it in my grandparent’s living room in Sherman. It was a great big comfortable place to sit if you could beat others to it but I mostly remember seeing my grandmother sitting in it while my father and grandfather paced the floor having a conversation – or sometimes a friendly debate. There was always religion and politics in the mix along with whatever else was in the news. They were mostly in agreement but I understand now there were some generational differences too.
We’re having the chair redone in time for a home tour later this month. Most of the homes are old and some are historic. Ours is neither but we have lots of family antiques that some people may find interesting. But we were invited to participate to show what is possible if you build a new, old-looking house in a historic neighborhood. It’s a conversation that is gaining ground in old downtown Garland with hopes of energizing the square and the neighborhoods around it.
Our neighborhood is Embree, a community established in 1886 but merged with Duck Creek in 1891 to form Garland. Our lot was vacant when we bought it but some local folks say the previous house indeed was old and at one time served as a parsonage for one of the downtown Garland churches. I’ve done some armchair research and still haven’t connected the property to a church, but the biggest surprise came recently when we read an obituary in the paper and realized that we bought the property from the grandfather of a Wilshire friend. Suddenly we feel connected to the past in more than just a legal, contractual way. We’ve found a point of familial conversation.
Last week during a break from home tour prep we sat down to watch the Waco-based “Fixer Upper” television series. This episode documented the renovation of the old Elite Café on the Waco traffic circle where I’d eaten many times as a student and later while working at the Waco newspaper. It was a tired, drab dive back in the day but Chip and Joanna Gaines have transformed it beautifully. One of the most intriguing features is a leather pocket attached to the wall behind the tables. Explained Chip: “We’re hoping that people come to the restaurant and drop their cell phones in these little pockets and really talk to each other and just hang out.”
It’s a fine idea, a noble ambition, but I wonder if it’s even possible anymore. There are so many distractions at our fingertips and we are so willing and even wanting to be distracted. Case in point: In July I’m trekking with my nephew’s scout troop at Philmont in the high country of New Mexico, and when I asked someone about the policy on cell phones they said, “Oh, I think you can probably get a signal.” But that’s not what I was asking. I was hoping they’d say, “You have to leave your phone at base camp.” That would be my preference. We didn’t have phones when I last trekked there in 1974 and we got along fine. At the end of a long day of hiking 20 miles or so we’d sit around the fire – on logs or on the ground – and talk to each other about what we’d seen and experienced during the day and what was planned for tomorrow.
The trek will span 12 days and I see now that in addition to getting my body in shape for the hike and the altitude, I want to get my head acclimated to a digital disconnect. I want to have conversations at the end of the day under the endless canopy of stars – with the scouts, with the dads, and most especially with God. But I might need to get my backside conditioned to sitting on the ground. I doubt they’ll let me bring the big conversation chair from home.
When the reupholster was loading the chair he gave it a cursory inspection, pressing on the arms and the cushions. I said, “It looks pretty rotten but I think it has good bones.” He smiled and replied, “We’ll make it like new.”
New is fine but I want to use it like old – to sit and have conversations and maybe even pray.