my life in couches

My English class this quarter is called "Environmental Autobiography: The Nonfiction of Place." So I've been thinking about my life through the lens of place lately... trying to break it down into specifics and not just Columbus, Springboro, Atlanta. I also just finished Elizabeth Gilbert's book Eat, Pray, Love which essentially is a work of nonfiction of place. And Gilbert's documented journey from Italy to India to Indonesia quickly worked its way up on my list of recommended books. So, in thinking about my life through place, my mind jumped to... couches. (Can couches be a place? Well, they are now.) When I think about how much time I've spent sitting, lounging, snuggling, napping, jumping and occasionally spooning on couches, it adds up! And I think, if I can name and recall specific couches from different places and periods in my life, then a couch must be identifiable as a place.


To begin with: Those big, comfy, fall-into-them jean couches which always find their homes at Young Life camps. My first experience with them being at Rockbridge. Granted, they are rather old and you might have to give the cushions a good coupla punches, those worn jean couches feel like home. They swallow you up the way your friend or grandfather hugs you when reuniting after a long time apart. Soft, warm, home.


Next: The couch in the lobby of Deer Creek. I think I spent most of my weekend there last year. Catching up with my friends, sharing what God was doing in our lives, laughing too much for the people around us, taking too many pictures. Being reunited with these friends who helped shape who I am. That couch became a part of our weekend as we uncovered truths together, sought to know our Maker, and shared triumphs and defeats.


Starbucks. Big leather couch or old purple velvet armchair--take your pick. Countless hours have I spent in the welcoming couches of Starbucks. Sure, occasionally I have probably taken too much liberty in feeling comfortable and at home in them, slipping off my shoes and snuggling in...but then again, isn't that what they are there for? I can't even begin to consider all the conversations I've had with people in those couches and armchairs at Starbucks. But I can recall piling too many girls onto a couch, falling into that velvet armchair with my arms up in defeat, and jumping out of the same armchair at the sight of a much missed friend.


This is the couch at a house in Deep Creek Lake, Maryland where I recently spent a weekend with my roommates. Very quickly, we transformed that living room into our own by relaxing, lounging, and playing in the couches. I don't know what it is about girls, but for some reason we really do love to just pile onto a couch, regardless of where we are. The house became our home for the weekend and that couch our couch as we learned more about each other.

I've read so many books, watched countless movies, had endless conversations and done innumerable other things in couches across the country. But more than these tangible things, I've built relationships, witnessed lives changing, and encountered my Savior from the comfort of these listed places. It seems trite, but I truly have grown and lived in and from these couches. I've buried my face and cried in them, laughed uncontrollably in them, battled through some of the hardest conversations in them, collapsed into them praying for God to just meet me there. Consider the actual physical places where you've spent your life, I bet you'll be surprised to find some unexpected ones.