My new-to-me table and chairs make me smile every single time I look in that direction. When I tell you that is often…well, you can’t imagine how accurate (and understated!!) that is.
One hard/rock maple table and 8 matching chairs made in Tennessee, purchased and used for decades in Mississippi, now brought back from Indiana to North Alabama. They’ve been well traveled, and well loved since their purchase by my grandparents for use at my mom and dad’s wedding reception in 1962. Thirty years later, my husband and I sat in these chairs behind the table piled high with gifts celebrating our wedding, too.
I never got to meet my maternal grandfather, so in my mind, these have always been “Grandmother’s table and chairs.” Much of my childhood involves memories of this table groaning under the weight of more desserts and holiday snacks than most people have ever seen in one sitting (the “real food” stayed in the kitchen!), the aunts and uncles sitting around it solving world issues while children ran in and out for “one more piece” of whatever had drawn their attention that day.
Rock maple is plenty hard and heavy. It NEEDED to be to hold up to all those family gatherings, celebrations, weighty discussions, and the ironworker breakfasts and card games while it was in Indiana with my Uncle Joe and his family, but these pieces of wood are also heavily saturated with love. They’re covered up with love, too, in the form of a custom-made 1960s gold tablecloth made by my grandmother’s younger sister, Aunt Pearl.
Yes, the table and chairs have passed to me now, and I am celebrating with every look in that direction, but the real legacy is lots and lots of love. May you also be so blessed and make love your legacy, too.
Grace and Peace!
This week has been one of change. On Monday, I was pulling grass out of the back garden flower bed when tiny drips and drops of liquid sunshine began to fall all around me. There was no need to stop doing what I had started because the drops were gentle and sporadic. My work continued.
A few of days ago, we packed up the big red truck and drove off the mountain on our way home. We took the scenic route: farm land, forests, majestic views, patches of daffodils at places we imagined long-ago homesteads, cows, and towns small enough to pass through in under a minute. No interstates crowded with commuter or big box stores and restaurant chains for most of the way.
We’re a lot better about not worrying than we used to be. We’ve seen God show up and show out for us so many times that even those dreaded words don’t seem to feel as dreadful as they used to. We’ve learned the joy of being together and knowing that we both belong to God. Whatever else happens, we’ve decided that those things are our non-negotiables. We’ve gotten stubborn about them and that’s ok, too. It’s good to get stubborn about the things that are most important to you. By the way, being stubborn about knowing you’re completely loved and accepted by an all-powerful and all-knowing God has led to some pretty stubborn faith, as well, and that stubborn faith has stood us in pretty good stead.
Some of what was important to us at the beginning has changed over the past 25 years. We’re more apt to focus on people rather than things now. We’re still learning to be good stewards of our resources and we’re choosing to focus on more of the little ordinaries and celebrate them rather than waiting for the big extraordinaries to come our way. Those are still happening, by the way, we’ve just learned that an impromptu date in the middle of the week with friends, an unplanned side trip, daffodils blooming in February, or taking the time to just sit and look at the mountains from a peaceful place in the woods might ought to be counted as one of them.
quiet ambitions: 