Finding Your Red Chair

by James Amadon

One welcome blessing in the midst of the current coronavirus disruption is that I am not racing through the early morning to get the kids out of bed, out the door, and into school. These days the older two sleep in, rolling out of bed and into the first online learning session of the day in one fluid motion. My youngest, at six years old, is incapable of sleeping in; he and I are usually the first ones downstairs. One such morning in early March, we decided to grab a few blankets, step out the front door, and sit in the two red Adirondack chairs that grace our front porch. 

We now do this on most mornings, and have given the practice a name: “Red Chair Time.” It involves sliding into our chairs, arranging blankets to keep us warm, and watching the day emerge as we sip our coffee and orange juice. Conversation is in whispers as we notice which birds are singing loudly, count how many bunnies emerge from the underbrush, and debate what color the sky most resembles. We also talk about dinosaurs and tell knock-knock jokes, both of which add to the sacredness of the moment. Occasionally we talk about what is going on in the wider world and who we might pray for that day. Mostly we just sit and take it all in.

At some point schools will open and the kids will go back. The morning race will start again. I will be sad to let go of Red Chair Time, and hope that there will be opportunities to come back to it in the future. For now, though, I receive it as a gift that invites the two of us to greet these strange days with wonder and gratitude.

Question to ponder:

1. Have you found something similar to “Red Chair Time?”