As I was wiping up a spill on my kitchen table the other night, I had a silly thought run through my mind. What if this kitchen table could talk? What kind of stories would it tell?
Some of those stories might be ugly- if you know what I mean, but hopefully most of them would be of happy conversations, laughter, and shared meals.
There would be stories of late nights finishing science projects and homework pages. Stories of meetings with insurance agents, investment brokers, and church presidency meetings.
Stories of game nights with friends and family, dinners with fancy table cloths, china and candle light. Stories of holiday meals with treats left at place settings, surprise bouquets of flowers placed there on anniversaries.
There might be a few stories of times when a voice was raised at the relentless teasing by a brother, of worries shared as two sat across from each other discussing family matters. Happy stories of births and sad stories of deaths.
I am sure it has cried big splintery tears upon hearing me complain of the weight of it's chairs and how I wish we would have never bought it (and how the next time we move we are NOT taking it with us!).
A few stories of the "good and bad" of everyone's day as the dinner meal was shared. Of planning of vacations to see friends who have moved and a once-in-a-lifetime trip to visit the land of our ancestors.
If our kitchen table could talk, I hope it would tell of the many prayers of faith and hope that were offered, of a family who was always trying to do what is expected of them, and of people who are trying to do the best they can.
I would hope it would share stories of parties with loved ones, of celebrations for hard earned accomplishments, of plans made for the future.
If my kitchen table could talk, I think it would tell of all these things and more. But the first thing I would ask it is where did this scratch come from because no one around here seems to have a clue as to how it got there.