This Chair

This Chair . . . 

This Chair is how Ellie Kate road in our handicap-accessible van.  She rode in this chair on the bus to school.  She came home on hospice in this chair. I pushed this chair many miles, I am sure - through hospital halls and doctor offices, through parking lots and on side walks.  There is so much connection to Ellie Kate in this chair.  And tomorrow, the chair has to go back and will no longer be in our home.

We were kindly loaned the chair several years ago when we had a sudden problem with the one we were using back then.  They've let us use if for a year now, and they need it back.  We had ordered that sparkly pink chair for Ellie Kate, but she died before we got it.  So, when I think of "her chair", I will think of this blue, clunky chair that was so comfy and that Ellie loved. 

The boys took turns riding in the chair today and trying it out one last time.  I wanted them to make a lasting memory of sissy's chair, as it was so much of her identity to us.  I even sat in the chair and slowly breathed in, begging the Lord for one more smell of Ellie's scent.  But it's gone, and soon so will be this chair.   

Oh, Lord!  Oh, Lord.  My heart is broken and I am pouring it out before you tonight.  I miss my Ellie Kate so so desperately!  My heart feels as if it has been ripped out.  I know this chair wasn't a part of her physical body, but I sure am going to miss it.  Give us vivid memories of this chair, Lord.  Bring happy memories, joyous memories full of laughter and of love.  Please, heal our hearts.  We can't go on without you, Lord!

I may just have to sleep in this chair tonight . . . 

Ryan