Finding Beauty in Brokenness

     Could I recover beauty in brokenness? When I first spotted these chairs, they were nothing but wobbly legs, tattered upholstery, and scarred wood. They once belonged to our retired neighbors Lyle and Nan. He was the center of attention at block parties, cracking jokes and snapping photos, while she was his grinning sidekick. But seasons passed, and Lyle and Nan’s steps faltered. They shifted to the sidelines at social events, then stopped attending. No more jokes, no more photos, but still smiles when we visited next door.     
     A daughter moved in to provide care. Duane and I would get a frantic call - Lyle had fallen - and run over to help pick him up.     
     Then Lyle died. Nan couldn’t connect the dots anymore and moved to assisted living. When their family began disposing of a lifetime of accumulation, I spied these two chairs and saw potential. Duane forced glue into joints, and they firmed up as though they’d had calcium injections. I applied stain to thirsty wood, and the pockmarks took on a respectable patina. We reupholstered the seats with a soft teal fabric.     
     Now in our living room, these ancient chairs don’t take center stage, but from the sidelines, they radiate a tarnished beauty like elders who have earned their wrinkles and wear them with dignity.     
     As Lyle and Nan did, and as I hope we radiate when we become side chairs in life.

Nan and Lyle