Her Chairs

Mom worked every day of her life. Advanced age and debilitating health weren’t about to change that. She woke early, drove a 45 minute commute and then began the chore of getting to her second floor office. Congestive heart failure limited her steps. If she walked too far wheezing and panting made her desperate to catch her breath. It was especially hard to watch as the years wore on. 

Chairs were strategically placed every ten to twelve feet. The first one just inside the front door, with others next to the elevator, inside the elevator, outside the elevator,  down the hall, and finally at her desk. She would walk in the front door and sit down. Then get up, walk to the elevator and sit while she waited for it. Once on the second floor, chairs dotted the hallway.  When she needed to rest...a chair was waiting. The routine was repeated at the end of the day.  She was tired then and her strength was fading. So the trip down the hallway took a lot longer.  And every chair was needed.

Strength, resolve, grit, determination…whatever you want to call it…she had it all and then some.  No complaining….no whining…no pity…no excuses. Five days a week, twice a day for years. And even on her last day – though she never made her commute - her clothes were laid out on the bed, ready to dress for work. None of us knew she was taking her last breath. She quickly and quietly left this world.  

No more chairs.

She’d never imagine her chairs would leave such an impression…not only for what they did for her…but for what they’re still teaching me. When things get to be too much, sit down. Catch your breath. Doesn’t matter how many times.  

As the years go by and I mature, I realize the wisdom, strength, and faith she lived every day.  Maybe we don’t realize it at the time for a reason. Maybe we’re just not ready. What I do know is that her legacy is rich…yet as simple as a trail of chairs.

Walk as far as you can…take a break…keep going.