The Feeling of Wood

This weekend as I worked on my stairs, I thought about wood and how it weathers. Sometimes the older the wood the more beautiful it becomes. A couple weeks ago I went to a funeral at Sacred Heart Church in Urbank, Minnesota. I sat in the wooden pew. I mourned a woman who was baptized at the very same church 90 years ago in 1908. Ninety years is a long time. The same pews and kneelers were here 90 years ago. On the back of the pews are small book holders to hold the prayer books and the song books. Between the book holders are the small clips to hold hats. The pew in front of me was worn and scuffed. The grain of the wood showed through the dark stain and the many coats of varnish. In some places the wood was worn making the dark line separating the years of growth stand higher than the wood between the lines. Several edges looked like someone had rubbed or picked at the wood wearing off the varnish and stain. Many, many people have sat in these pews before me. I marveled at the multitude of prayers that have been said in this European style church. I am sure mothers prayed for their children who went to war (WWI, WWII, Korean Conflict, Vietnam, Gulf War, Iraq and Afghanistan). The wars have changed but the anguish of parents and family is constant. How many broken hearts have knelt in these pews? How many desperate people have asked for divine guidance? How many farmers knelt in thanksgiving for the rain and the sun? I gaze up at the beautiful stained glass windows and wonder how many happy couples sat and looked out the very same windows? I look up at the three white castle like peaks on the altar and wonder how many children have prayed to be granted more independence and self-determination? Are there any human emotions that have not been felt in these wooden pews? I doubt it. The wood on these pews has seen it all.