Her Momma’s Table

I received a picture message from my friend on my phone.
A picture of a charming little church with white clapboard siding and a large steeple.
My friend always passes this church when she takes this particular route.
She wanted to share it with me.

It is the kind of church you would see in a New England town.
But my friend was not in New England.
I sent her a message in reply.
How inviting!!! (multiple exclamation points for emphasis)

It was inviting.
The setting, the stillness, the warmth simply seemed to say, Come in.
In reality all churches should say that, all churches should be that warm and welcoming.
Sometimes they are not; sometimes we forget that the building is secondary.

I was curious as to why my friend was making this trip now.
It is a few more weeks until college begins.
I wondered why her daughter had to be back on campus earlier than expected.
The trip was not about college; it was about a table.

My friend explained about the “why” of her trip in a lengthy text.

I took my momma’s little kitchen table…it was bittersweet. A lot of life was lived around that little table…I couldn’t help but think of the people who sat there and poured out their hearts, or the image of mom holding my daughter as a toddler there and the endless hours she sat there and did that awful nebulizer. Time marches on…

I read the text through tears.
I knew her mom.
This sweet woman died almost two years ago.
Every day, my friend misses her momma.

The sneak attacks that come on you without warning.
The smell of baking pies.
The glance across the street to the house her mother lived in.
The memories of time around the table.

I answered my friend’s text with words of understanding.
She continued.

The funny thing is that I’ve hung onto it because it only had three chairs…the only way it would fit into her kitchen, so it’s just perfect for my daughter’s small space with her two roommates.

I thought before answering.
Her mother was loved.
Her daughter will feel especially close to her grandmother at she sits at her table.
New memories and new conversations will be taking place there, just as it should.

Things that comfort us because of their familiarity.
Things that comfort us simply because they remind us of someone we loved.
Things that comfort us because of the memories associated with the object.
Comforting things that help us when the sneak attacks come.

A lot of life was lived around that little table…
A lot of life.
Memories.
Moments.

The table is just made of wood.
The table only has three chairs.
It is not about matching a decor, or having enough chairs to go around.
It is about a tangible object that brings a loved one to mind.

Tables are supposed to have life around them.
Chairs, whether many or few, are to have people sitting in them.
Conversation is to waft in the air, from one to another.
Memories are made without even knowing you are making them.

That’s the way it should be.
Natural.
Memories made while life is being lived.
Memories shared and in the process, new memories made.

When the hour came, Jesus and His apostles reclined at the table. And He said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God.” After talking the cup, He gave thanks and said, “Take this and divide it among you. For I tell you, I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.” And He took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is My body given for you, do this in remembrance of Me.” In the same way after supper, He took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood, which is poured out for you. But the hand of him who is going to betray Me is with mine on the table. The Son of Man will go as it has been decreed but woe to that man who betrays Him. They began to question among themselves which of them it might be who would do this. Also a dispute arose among them as to which of them was the greatest. (Luke 22:14-24)

A lot of Life happens around a Table.
Whether an awful nebulizer or a friend’s betrayal, good and bad happens there.
Jesus reclined at a triclinium, which was a three-sided table.
My friend’s table, the one her mother had in her kitchen, had only three chairs.

Tangible objects that bring a Loved One to mind.
Bread and Wine.
Body and Blood.
Tangible objects that help us when the sneak attacks from the enemy come.

Memories made while Life is being lived.
Do this in remembrance of Me.
Newness around the Lord’s Table.
Bittersweet as we remember how He suffered for us.

Precious because we feel so close to Him there.
Oh, the people around His Table, pouring out their hearts.
The ones He holds so close.
How inviting!!! (multiple exclamation points for emphasis)

 

2 responses to “Her Momma’s Table”

1. Gina, you took my heart and put it into words. This is the most precious gift you could ever have given me. Thank you my dear friend…I love you.

   Reply

   • Sherie,
     I am delighted that you were blessed. It is a tall order…putting a heart to words. But with HIM at the enter, it can be done.
     You are loved, too, dear friend.
     Gina

     Reply