Thursday, January 26, 2017

My Kitchen Table

I'm a story teller.  I could you tell you something but I'd rather build it up with a story.  I love telling the story of my day to Ryan. I'm not sure how much he loves hearing my stories but he loves me so he smiles and acts interested.  

My daddy could do anything.  Or so I thought and still think.  He was handy.  When I was in high school, he made props for my drill team.  He made these huge wooden stars that we could dance on and jump off of.  They were awesome! I don't remember how old I was when he made my sister and I matching bookshelves.  I'm sure she does because she has been blessed with my momma's outrageously detailed memory.  I'm not sure what I ate yesterday.

Our bookshelves were not fancy.  Plywood and stain.  But I loved mine.  I left it at home until Ryan and I moved into our first house. After that it went everywhere.  But it was starting to lean and I was worried it would break soon.

When we moved into our current house three years ago, I fell in love with the kitchen.  It's not big but I like how it's laid out and I liked the breakfast nook area.  The first time I walked in the house I knew I needed a built in seat in the corner under the window.  I didn't know at the time that was called a bankett.  I had June Cleaver visions of teenage boys sliding into that bench, eating and laughing.  And I had the perfect idea for a table.

I wanted to make the table out of my Daddy's bookshelf.  I found plans on Pinterest and thought it would be super easy to do it ourselves! Ryan found a talented man who could make it for us.  He loaded my bookshelf in his truck and returned with a beautiful table.  It's more beautiful than anything I had imagined.  The book shelf is the table top.  Chris de-assembled it and laid it out like a mosaic.  He also build the bankett.  I loved it!

These days my table is almost always scattered with stuff.  Backpacks. Papers.  Remnants of projects.  Spelling words.  Used napkins (why doesn't anyone throw away their used napkins around here?). The momma's refrain "why can't we have nice things?" echoes in my head from time to time.  Why can't we keep this one spot clean and nice looking.  Many of my friends have beautiful dining room tables with centerpieces worthy of Better Homes & Gardens and a thousand Pinterest pins. Why can't our table look like that?

But the other day, God tapped me on the shoulder and showed me the beauty of that messy table.  It shows signs of life.  It shows what B is working on.  It's evidence that my boys work there and eat there and laugh there.  It's a mess, but mostly a good mess - just like us.  Every time I sit down at my table, I am reminded of my Daddy's love for me. The care he took making that bookshelf.  Then I am reminded of God's love for me that was reflected in my Daddy's love.  Then I think of the love I have for Ryan and the boys and how it all comes together around that crazy messy table.  Suddenly the mess doesn't seem to bother me as much.

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