Matt bought a bench a few years ago so he could lift weights. It seems to be the perfect accessory to my unfinished basement -goes perfectly with the cement floor, lack of trim, and uncovered lightbulbs. I pretend it's a beautiful coffee table sitting in front of our 18-year-old couch. The bench sits a foot behind my computer chair, which is where I spend many hours a day as I do medical transcription and other sundry writing. Quite a while ago I was sitting at the computer, and my soul was deeply moved about something. I felt a desperate need to go to my knees in prayer about it, and as I swiveled in my chair the most natural place to go was to the weight bench. There I was on the hard cement floor, knees bent, arms resting on the bench, pouring my heart out to God. Since then Matt has gotten a membership at the local gym, so now the bench is all mine, and I have officially christened it as my prayer bench. It may not be lovely to you, but in my imagination it is placed right at the base of some stairs, and when I look up, in place of the couch is the throne of God. I pray, and He listens. My favorite spot in the house.