Around Our Table - Part 2

***This is Part 2 of a two-part post.  Click here to read Part 1.

It hasn't been with us that long.  Only 9 years.  Yet that's over half of our young sons' lives.  And as I laid in bed last night with the digital numbers on our clock seemingly brighter than usual, I saw with vivid clarity the moments and memories; ordinary and extraordinary; everyday and especially.

Our dining room table.  It wasn't too long after we bought it that our oldest son was hard at work on an art project.  He was so diligent, so proud of the picture of the mad scientist he had drawn with colored pencils.  Unfortunately, I was unaware that his stick-to-it-iveness was going right through his paper and making impressions on the table beneath.  To this day, at one end of our table is the impression of a bygone day: our son's mad scientist drawing.  And while I didn't love it at the time, today finds me grateful for the memory of that long-ago afternoon, the character it adds, and the little hands that painstakingly put it there.

And then there were all those other moments that found boys poured over their schoolwork:  diagramming sentences, working on spelling, creating crafts  Line upon line, baby step after baby step, they grew up and flourished.

I see little boys in their jammies, encircling the table with light in their eyes.  A rack of sugar cookies was just waiting to be brought to life with decorations, and they eagerly set to work with frosting and a liberal dose of sprinkles.

There was Christmas Eve Chicken Cordon Bleu and Christmas morning tea; "Celebrate Daddy" nights and a host of other themed nights.  The moments were becoming memories and making an impression on little boys' hearts...kind of like the mad scientist on our table.

Family game nights found little boys hanging off of chairs and me wondering where their unending energy came from---energy that made getting through a simple game sometimes long and difficult.  Our games evolved from Lego Creator to Clue to Life to Phase 10.  Amidst the seemingly non-stop laughter, a competitive spirit was flamed and sportsmanship was taught.

My heart warms at the thought of meetings held, visions cast, and heads bowed.  With a heartfelt longing to make much of Christ, various committees came 'round our table seeking wisdom and guidance from Him.

I plainly see my husband seated with tax papers spread out across the table each year.  My own anxious heart was in knots, but his smile was steady and sure.  Without fail, he reminded me that God was good and had always taken care of us.  Everything was gonna be ok.

I smile at the thought of our table stretched to full capacity, seating grandparents at birthday parties, friends at Christmas parties, and our high school kids for Friday morning coffee cake.  I think of the squeeze to fit around the table when filled with so many people we love.  And my heart rejoices that God's not called us to do life alone; that we get to love and serve with so many remarkable people.

I bask in the sweet memories of tea parties with my girlfriends and tea with my high school girls.  I think of our table filled with women from all walks and stages of life. Some old, some not-so-old.  The small talk gave way to deep talk.   Over hot tea and sweets, their stories came spilling forth.  And we discovered that we're much more alike than we may have thought.  We celebrated God's beautiful plan to place olden women in the lives of younger women:  teaching, training, and setting the pace.

I remember our little family of five joining hands 'round that table, pouring out prayers of thanks before meals; teaching what is and isn't appropriate at the table; opening up the Bread of Life.  I think of the days rehearsed, the celebrations had, the memories made.

And that is why I look at our table and smile.  It's the hub.  It's where our little family grew up.  And it loudly echoes reminders of God's extravagant grace.  From the little boy days to the current big boy days, our God has carried, sustained, and provided for us.  He's met every need with Himself.  And because of that, I know that even when change is looming on the horizon and everything looks different than before, this same God is over all.  As our chairs empty when sons leave our nest or as leaves are eventually added to accommodate our growing family---my trust, my hope, and my confidence is in this same God.  May the everyday occasions around our table reflect, honor, and thank Him.