One guide in an early American home told us that parents made children sit still on the stools for months. Grown-ups were busy running a household and didn’t want children underfoot. I don’t really believe that. I can’t imagine the children I’ve raised sitting still even a few minutes at age 2. But months? Really?!
When I sit and relax, I prefer a comfy couch, with lots of cushions (red, please, my favorite color). And a soft comforter at my fingertips in case of a chill in the weather.
In a larger sense, in life, we prefer the couch to the stool. When I go through a time of sitting on a wooden stool, being poked by pegs and beset by splinters, I’m wishing for comfort. When can I get up and run to the softer sofa?
I’ve read in Scripture that with endurance comes character. The people of Plimoth must have been rich with character. I believe that the wooden stool times are moving me closer, too.