At first something was slightly creepy about it. Sitting all alone in the shadows of the old Maple tree. Being in the open, empty park had weathered its creamy, white surface. Mud, from the recent rainfall, was splattered up the legs.
After scanning the scene again, I began to feel different. This time it looked sad. It had a story to tell, a vast history. I started thinking. Who has sat here? What did they do? Did they rest here?
I walked over to it and sat down. My mind was flooded with an atmosphere of love. As I glided my palm over the seat, I thought of the countless lads that must have proposed to their ladies at this spot. It doesn’t seem like much now, but it must have been a beautiful park long ago.
My thoughts then floated to all the mothers. They probably sat here making light conversation while their children played tag on the open grass. Maybe the children even played hide-and-seek in the brush or behind the maples and oaks.
I felt warm. A thin smile spread across my lips. The automobile noises from the nearby street started to melt away with the spring breeze. I was thinking again.
An elderly couple probably rested here. I could picture them, very much in love. They held hands while they watched the birds pick up seeds.
I sighed. All it wanted was to be appreciated and loved back. Probably none of the people throughout its story thought anything of it though. After all, it was only a bench. But, it has always been here. It never failed to provide rest for those who sat.
As I stood up and began to walk out of the old park, I said a prayer. I apologized for all the times I didn’t show God how much I appreciated Him. But most of all, I thanked Him for always being my bench.
Matthew 11:28, Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” | 
