The two chairs
This essay was first published on The Daily BS on September 26, 2025.
Recently, we purchased a pair of matching occasional chairs in a distinguished, striped pattern. We placed them carefully in our master suite. They had scarcely landed in their prescribed place when at once two other things landed squarely in them–the behinds of two stalwart, blue-eyed young men.
At night, as my husband and I would retire to our room to get ready for bed, here they’d come. Numbers 3 and 4 would stroll in, assuming their places.
Sometimes both chairs would fill up. Often, the one on the right would be occupied while the newly-minted College Kid sprawled on the floor to do his nightly stretches.
At times, there was a four-way conversation. Two in bed, one on the floor, one in a chair by the door. Other times, there was a communal silence as we relaxed to the strains of beautiful music. At last, they would stir, coming to kiss their father and I, and the doors would close behind them.
One morning as I walked in the predawn darkness, that picture came to me. Our two sons, sitting in the matching chairs or resting on the floor, content in our mere presence. As I thought about that beautiful scene, I realized that something important was happening in those golden moments. At the end of a busy day, they were finding comfort, connection, and bonding with not only us, but with each other. In an increasingly loud, dangerous, and chaotic world, they knew that home was a place of solace and calm, and two, striped chairs were the signs.
Today, as I view the landscape of American family life, there is much to be concerned about. Friends in the healing professions have confirmed an epidemic of anxiety in young people. Fearful kids fill their waiting rooms and offices.
Not only are they anxious, but many are confused about their intrinsic biology. The truth of their own bodies is not enough. They doubt their very gender, the basic building block of life. They don’t know how to exist in the world, so, taking their cues from social media and loud voices in academia, they reach for a chemical and surgical cure. But hormone manipulation and outward procedures are not the answers for an inner condition. Our children are in trouble.
It isn’t just our children, though. Far too many parents have lost their moral compasses. Moral relativism is a cancer that has metastasized, and it’s showing up in our families.
“The truth is whatever you think it is.” Such thinking is shifting sand. If there is no objective truth and everyone creates their own reality, chaos is inevitable. Society will eventually crumble, subject to the whims of whoever has the most power. Too often, culture will cant to the lowest common denominator, i.e., our basest human desires. Without the north star of Truth, we’re in trouble.
Pope John Paul II said it like this, “As the family goes, so goes the nation and so goes the whole world in which we live.” I submit to you, then, that real change must begin in our homes.
Children need the stability of being guided by parents who are guiding themselves well. In other words, parents must be firmly grounded on truth, possessing a solid moral framework. If parents are tossed about by the winds of prevailing cultural trends, the children will follow suit. We cannot ask our children to be and do what we are not willing to be and do. It’s on us to be mature, principled, and healthy in every way, no matter what it costs us. While we cannot control their decisions in adulthood, we can give them the best possible chance to make wise ones by the lives that we live before them.
It is not possible to be a perfect parent. Humbling, how quickly a son or daughter will forgive when an adult admits a mistake. Thrilling, how eagerly they will follow when we teach them how we’re learning to do it better. Humility and the transmission of core values, e.g., bringing them along with us as we grow, is at the heart of a strong, loving home.
But back to those two chairs. Far more than being a place to sit, they symbolize what our family has become—a refuge, a safe place in troubled times. A circle in which to belong. A citadel of unconditional acceptance and love. A cocoon of warmth and light as the nighttime falls. In the morning, they will go out into the world again, carrying with them everywhere the goodness and beauty of Love’s consolation, knowing that it is waiting for them at day’s end.
To those who did not experience a home like this, I declare to you now—you can create one. You are not bound or consigned to old patterns and ways, no matter how dysfunctional or destructive they were. You have every ability to choose new patterns and new ways of relating. Where you have failed, ask forgiveness. Learn to do it better and begin teaching the “new” that you’re learning.
To those whose children are grown, and you’re discouraged by your results, I implore you. Give yourself to prayer and ground yourself in Love. Pour out your unconditional love and acceptance on those precious children and set your own chairs out. Keep the light on, keep the door open, and keep your heart soft and free.
Who knows? Perhaps one day, those empty chairs will be full. Just like my two are.