Just two days ago, I posted this photo of our dining table on FB. We were hoping to give the table away, since we purchased a new one from Ikea. It was almost nine years old, and had bumps at the edges due to spilt drinks. The two year old had also been scraping at the bottom edges which had started to peel, so the hubby decided it was time to get a new table.
The response was surprising. Two friends indicated that they were interested in taking the table, and in the end, one confirmed that she would be collecting the table this week. What I didn't expect was the whole slew of comments from friends, reminiscing about our table. About how it had hosted countless bible studies, and carried food for potluck meals. Friends who had attended crops (scrapbooking sessions) remembered how the table could fit many. Schoolmates remembered the table where we gathered for project meetings.
That made me remember. It made me recall how we had purchased this huge table (it is 260 cm long), thinking that it would be perfect for hosting our bible study group. I remembered how we would lay newspapers on the table and feast on crabs and other local food, while sharing and chatting. It brought back memories of schoolmates discussing and working on our project presentations. I remembered how our dog used to prop his paws on the table, tongue lolling, eyes begging for the food on your plate.
I remembered how the table was totally covered with papers during crops, as well as when I did my late-night crafting. It has been the place the hubs and I work on our laptops, while we chatted over a warm drink at night.
I recalled all the meals we've eaten at that table. I thought of how the table has seen the addition of one, then two, then three little boys, who have sat at the table during meals and made messes.
I thought of all the birthday parties it had hosted, while it held feasts to be shared, and cakes to be cut.
I remembered all the happy hours spent on art projects, where sticky fingers pasted and brushes painted on paper, as well as on the table itself. I thought of all the hours spent learning at the table, all the writing done by small hands, all the reading done, all the messes it bore on its surface.
And I was thankful. Thankful for how this bashed up, tired old table was a reminder of how beautifully full our lives was, and how blessed we were. Grateful that we had so many fond memories all wound up in our table, memories of learning, of eating as a family, of warm meals, of parties and gatherings, of messes. This heart of the home will be going off to be a part of another family's life, but we will be welcoming a new one soon, and I guess that is something to look forward too!