Rescued

December 2, 2014

It almost got left behind when my sister moved. It was understandable that no one wanted it; it was painted an ugly white, and looked pretty nondescript. But it was structurally sound and I couldn't bring myself to just throw it away, so I piled it in the back of my pickup along with garden tools and other miscellaneous stuff that wasn't going to follow my sister to her new home. It sat in my garage for a couple months before I took it to a friend who strips furniture as a hobby business. When it came back, I was stunned. Who would do that to a piece of fine furniture?

This afternoon, I put the finishing touches on it, buffing the screws and assembling the parts. Over the past week, I've sanded, and Linda and I have applied coat after coat of varnish. Last night I took the hardware over to son Matt's shop to buff it up a bit. What was once dull and buried beneath years of oxidation now gleams in the light--solid brass!
Solid cherry with a mahogany veneer on the front. And yeah, that's no decal; it's genuine inlay you see. Its only flaw are two small dings in the veneer. There's a bonus. In the drawer inside were a few brittle pieces of paper, one of which was a call slip with the name of my great-uncle Frank Randall, my maternal grandfather's brother in law. It was dated 1921, the year my father was born. It was folded around a business card that advertised among other things, school supplies and tobacco.

Most of my growing up years I felt overlooked. Everyone of value had already been chosen while I remained behind, expecting the worst, rejected by all who passed by. At the last moment, Someone stopped and looked me over, seeing something worth salvaging. It still amazes me. I'm pretty sure that unlike me, Jesus was able to see beneath the surface to the beauty buried beneath all the accretion that was laid on me by the Imposter Refinisher. It probably wasn't a surprise to him, but the inlay, the unique pattern the Master Cabinet Maker painstakingly fitted into my soul, has certainly been an unexpected discovery to me. And like this little desk which Linda will move from place to place till she finds the "just right" location for it, God has moved me around and found "just the right place" for me in his house. When people come to our home, Linda proudly shows them our newest treasure, and every so often, if I listen carefully, I can hear my Heavenly Father whisper, "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased."