The Table

Thank you for giving me bread to break with family and friends. Thank you for my good health and even better cheer. Thank you for the eternal love, light, and meaning given to each of my days. ~ philosophy

The gatherings

Year after year, we gathered at the table to break bread. We laughed. Laid our burdens down. Cried. Loved one another unconditionally. Bonded with each other—and God.

Holidays. Birthdays. Graduations. Weddings. Funerals. We toasted with full glasses, even in seasons when we agreed to disagree. Today, as Thanksgiving and Christmas draw near, my husband and I reminisce how, in good times or bad, all those years of family gatherings in our home signified a sort of common ground—maybe even sacred ground—where we shared snapshots of our life stories. A place where time stood still, especially when we lingered together… at the table.

…They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts. ~ Acts 2:46

The living

I’m sure my family never really comprehended how this inanimate object took on a life of its own. It’s been said scars are beautiful markings that reveal the strength of humans, so maybe the many scratches, grooves, indentations, and unsightly scribbles made the table much more special.

After all, my four boys did their homework there. We played cards and seemingly never-ending board games with Grandma and Pap, Nanny and Poppy, and many friends. My granddaughter polished my and her nails there. We prayed for blessings during Sunday dinners and maybe even a few Steeler Football parties.

Life changes

I’m living proof three moves in three years might be too much for even the most determined soul to handle. This time, with each box I unpack, I sense my sanity slipping just a tad. Dennis watched me pack our Christmas sheets in this bin, so where’d they go? It’s no secret I dislike change. The most recent move was only last month, a week after terrible Helene hit our area. We moved from our large cabin (the kids had named The Lodge) back to our beloved but much smaller cabin we had marketed as a vacation rental since 2021.

Sure, renovating our small place was my idea, but I figured we wouldn’t move back until ALL renovations were completed and I had my few treasured furnishings there. My husband had another idea—Let’s change direction. Sell the Lodge and move back to your little happy place now while the reno is in progress—

I remember looking at him with my “What in the world?” look.

He said, “Let’s say this is just another slight change of plans in our thirty-something years of bliss.”

“Just so you know,” I said, “I’m not selling what’s left of our furniture since our move to North Carolina from Florida in 2021 (I told you this was crazy) in addition to the home sale—especially not the dining table we’ve had forever.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” Dennis said, “but what about that hand-carved one we saw at Mountain Furniture the other day? It’s smaller and might be a much better fit for a more compact dining room.” His voice squeaked with irony. “You oohed and aahed for twenty minutes on the way home.”

“Uh. No. I didn’t. And I’m never selling the table.”

…I hate it when he’s right. And moreover, when I fling words like never around (I’ve warned against that to my children) as if it won’t come back to haunt me.

Two kinds of moving

I meticulously staged our home, and we closed with a swift sale. After giving away another ton of stuff and filling a storage unit with items we plan to use after our renovation is completed, we let our huge leather living room sectional, oversized coffee table, and the entire dining room set go.

And haunt me it did. How could you? What happened to never? You’re a hypocrite and a liar…

Would anyone understand my jumbled feelings? My heart hurt, but not only because of the obvious conclusion we had way too much to cram into a tiny cabin. I mean, yes, we do, but to part with yet another gift we had scrimped and saved to purchase on one of our milestone anniversaries that had a prominent place in our very first home together? Ugh.

Life has a way of teaching us to move, to let go, to start over, and sometimes, in my case, to learn to be content with less. Again. Through blessings and losses, and sometimes in seasons when we have more than we need, God helps us make those decisions—even when we don’t fully understand why or what we’re doing. These strategic moves are usually for our good.

Letting go

Still, the magnitude of the matter didn’t resonate with our family. They were genuinely happy we sold The Lodge and didn’t want more of our stuff. Our four adult sons tried to reason with me:

“Mom, you always told us not to worry about stuff.”

“It’s okay, Mom. Come on, give me a hug.” (insert loud chuckle).

“Mom, let it go. The memories are what matters and will always be with us.”

“Ma! Stop being a ding-dong. The table was too big, too rickety, and now you can buy a new one.”

These are my four precious babies…

One of my daughters-in-love said something that resonated with me during the move. She said, “You should write a story about the table. I bet it will help you sort out what you’re feeling.”

Since I couldn’t explain letting go of our family table to myself, let alone anyone else, including my other daughter-in-love, I knew it would be cathartic—so, voila (Pronounced “vwah-lah” That’s French for, “See? There you have it”—ish).

The importance of gathering

The table was always an anchor and palette. It provided stability and a blank canvas on which our words could spill out, imparting a unique sense of connection for colorful conversations between family and friends. While I hope those memories linger with my loved ones long after Dennis and I move on to our permanent home in heaven, I pray we adventure here together for many years to come.

Life can change in a moment. Let’s cherish all the reminiscences our tables represent. Knowing the importance of gathering is paramount.

Holy scriptures state how God knew gatherings would encourage us and stir our faith. I’m thankful to know a mere fraction of how much He loves us.

Whether we gather in church, on a blanket on the beach, around a plastic fold-out, or on a flat rock where we can set our water bottles, one thing is certain. Wherever we gather to break bread or give thanks together, all will be a haven for new stories in the making.

Dear friends,

This Thanksgiving and always, I pray we count all our gatherings as our biggest blessings and remember that the things we once held dear do not compare. Let’s celebrate all that unites us instead of focusing on what divides us. Give where we can and share the loaves we have. And, in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene where so many people lost everything in the blink of an eye, I pray we offer those in need a seat at our tables.

Wishing you blessings now and always. Happy Thanksgiving.

~ Joann

Special thanks to Pixabay and all image artists for free use of images in this post. Feature: Darkmoon_Art, #1 elle_kh , #2 background_s, #3 JillWellington.