The Stool’s Hitch

Learning to See and Honor the Everyday Things That Carry Us

Most of us barely notice a chair tucked snugly beneath the kitchen table—until it scratches the tile as we slide it back to use it or when it’s no longer functional or serving our purpose. It’s easy to overlook despite how much we depend on it. We can take it for granted despite how it serves us. Yet this person-object relationship can be a mirror, reflecting how we rely on things—and people—without ever pausing to consider what they feel, what they give, or what they need in return.

When Will wrote the following poem entitled The Stool’s Hitch as a sixth-grader, I was struck by how he considered something so ordinary. At just twelve years old, he gave voice to the unseen burdens and unspoken love that flow between us and the objects—or souls—that hold us up.

The Stool’s Hitch
by Will Andress 

“You are the one.
Human.
You sit on me.
Wear me out.
Run me old.
Do you respect me?
Do you love me?”
the stool prolonged.

“You give me rest.
Chair.
Stability.
Most importantly—
a seat.
Do you support me?
I love you!”
the human prolonged.

“Yes, I recognize that.
But what do you give to me?
What is my purpose?
Am I only here to live for your enjoyment?
Man on stool.
Stool under man.”

The stool cries out under his weight,
pressing against,
between man and tile.

The stool struggles.
The man wears a smile.

There’s a quiet lesson in this. Every support structure—whether a simple stool, the earth beneath our feet, or the people we lean on—serves and sacrifices in some way. If we never notice or listen, we risk taking it all for granted, mistaking generosity for obligation.

Ouch.

I am reminded of St. Francis of Assisi’s Canticle of the Creatures and his acute appreciation for the sun, moon, and stars, for the wind, air, fire, fruit, flowers, and herbs. The very act of recognition can be an exercise in gratitude. To respect what holds us up is to honor its purpose—and to remember that every gift received calls us to give in return.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through all that you have made,
And first my lord Brother Sun,
Who brings the day; and light you give to us through him.
How beautiful is he, how radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Moon and Stars;
In the heavens you have made them, bright
And precious and fair.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all the weather’s moods,
By which you cherish all that you have made.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
Through whom you brighten up the night.
How beautiful is he, how merry! Full of power and strength.

All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Earth, our Mother,
Who feeds us in her sovereignty and produces
Various fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

Question

What or who in my life quietly supports me—and have I truly noticed, appreciated, or honored them?

Peace,

Brandon

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