A simple, red wingback chair became more than just furniture; it transformed into a sacred space, a personal altar. For years, it was there that my late wife, Bobbie, began each day, immersing herself in scripture and prayer. Originally a vibrant yellow, a color Bobbie adored, the chair made the journey with us from our home in Illinois to the Sunshine State. Reupholstered in red to complement our new surroundings, it continued to serve as her spiritual sanctuary.
While I acknowledged the importance of Bobbie's daily ritual, my own days were filled with what I perceived as more pressing matters: emails, schedules, articles, clients. Though I occasionally used the red chair, it remained primarily Bobbie's domain, a place for her quiet contemplation.
In 2012, our lives took a dramatic turn. A visit to the oncology clinic at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Orlando marked the beginning of a challenging 30-month journey with cancer. The waiting room, filled with women battling the same relentless disease, remains a vivid and poignant memory.
After Bobbie's passing, our home filled with the comforting presence of family and friends. In a gesture of respect, I placed a ribbon across the red chair, a silent acknowledgment of its significance. No one sat in it that day.
The morning after the funeral, I found myself at Bobbie's graveside, grappling with the immense void her absence had left. Overwhelmed by grief, I wept openly for the first time since her diagnosis.
The following day, I awoke with a profound sense of purpose. I knew where I needed to be: Bobbie's red chair. Removing the ribbon, I sat down and poured out my heart to God, confessing my neglect of spiritual discipline. In that moment, I committed to starting each day as Bobbie had, with prayer and scripture.
Picking up Bobbie's well-worn One-Year Bible, I opened it to the day's reading, Psalm 113:2-3, which spoke of praising the Lord from sunrise to sunset. It was a powerful reminder of God's unwavering presence and a comforting reassurance in my grief.
Since then, whether I'm at home or traveling, I've made it a practice to dedicate my early mornings to connecting with God. The peace and joy I've discovered in these quiet moments have been transformative. While you may not have a red chair, you have a space where you can connect with the divine. My hope is that this story inspires you to find that space and embrace the power of prayer and scripture in your own life.
