Catholic Herald Parenting™

	Lorenz and Friends

It started with an old, grimy Morris chair with ugly velour cushions that I found in a dusty, musty basement at a rummage sale in Lodi. I have a thing about Morris chairs, designed in 1866 by William Morris, English poet-turned-craftsman. The Morris chair was the first recliner. Made of wood with removable seat and back cushions, the chair has a bar and notch arrangement on the back that permits the back to be tilted to five different reclining positions.

Robert Frost wrote most of his poems while sitting in a Morris chair. Perhaps that's why I'm so fascinated by them. At any rate, I paid $35 for the chair, lugged it home, cleaned it up, tossed the ugly velour cushions in the garbage, tightened a few screws, found a replacement for the missing wooden caster, shopped for fabric, purchased beautiful Italian floral tapestry and made arrangements to have new cushions made.

When I brought the chair into my bedroom I discovered it made the room look cluttered. Too much furniture, too little space. Thinking aloud, I said, "If I move my queen size bed into Andrew's room and move his smaller double bed into my room, then I'll have plenty of room for the Morris chair." At 6'3" tall, I knew my son would love having a bigger, longer bed when he comes home from college for the summer.

Once the decision to switch the beds was made, the dominos began to fall. I walked into Andrew's room, looked at the walls which were bare, except for the 75 or so hats hanging on nails up along the ceiling. He'd taken most of his floor-to-ceiling, 300-plus hat collection down during high school to make room for posters that he took to college, but the nail holes from those 300 hats remained.

I took the 75 remaining hats outside to brush off six years worth of dust, packed them into boxes, stored them in the garage and went back inside with a can of spackling compound. After filling all the holes, I cleaned out his desk from grade school (no longer necessary because of the computer table in there), moved the desk to the shed, some shelves to a nearby hallway, rearranged the other furniture, then vacuumed and dusted the room thoroughly.

Next came the masking tape. After taping all the woodwork, I bought paint and spent two hours painting the room.

When I was finished, I even painted his dresser. I was a wild woman caught in the eye of a redecorating whirling dervish.

Then I talked my neighbor into helping me move my big bed into Andrew's room and his smaller one into mine. I hung two watercolors that I knew my son would like that his older sister painted and bought new sheets for the bed.

Two complete days work, just because I bought that Morris chair for my bedroom.

The whole project got me thinking about how easy it is to procrastinate in life about so many things. I should have painted Andrew's room and filled those nail holes three years earlier when he left for college. But I procrastinated. But the minute something else, besides the idea of cleaning and painting his room, got me going, I was driven blindly from one step of the project to the next as easy as butter sliding down a hot ear of corn.

I started thinking of ways to get myself motivated to do some other projects around the house and yard. Perhaps if I just organized one shelf out in the garage, I might end up getting rid of half the junk out there, organizing the important stuff, and cleaning the shelves, floors and walls once and for all.

What about the overgrown bushes in the backyard, the messy wood pile, the weeds around the shed? If I just started eating that huge elephant one bite at a time, by sweeping the patio, I might get the whole yard done.

Then I thought about my health. What if I did just one little thing like sign up for a yoga class? I did and the next day I also signed up for a 3-D class (diet-discipline-discipleship) offered at my parish.

Then I got serious about taking a bike ride every day and drinking more water. Again, I was a wild woman on a mission once I got started.

Is there a big project staring you in the face? One you've been putting off for years?

Take a tiny little chunk out of it. Tell yourself that you only have to organize that one little area under the kitchen sink. Or clean out one shelf in the garage or basement. Or sign up for one short Bible study class. Why, you could even go buy an old chair that's too big for your bedroom.

Before you know it you'll be knee-deep in a project that'll give you a sense of accomplishment beyond belief.

(Lorenz, a mother of four, lives in South Milwaukee.)