Sunday, November 23, 2014

The Family Table and Longing for Home

Family friends recently celebrated their youngest son's birthday. To create a cozy atmosphere for his fall birthday they prepared their family table by lighting candles in pretty green and red globe holders, as well as candles lovingly crafted by their children in unique autumn leaf holders.








Unexpectedly, one of the beautiful leaf holders caught on fire, consumed the hand-crafted candle, and charred the surface of their table. Gratefully, no one was hurt, and they were able to quickly extinguish the flames, but they were, understandably, sad that their family table was now blemished. My dear friend texted me to share the incident, and I immediately thought of our own family table that was also permanently blemished.

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We purchased our family table when our oldest daughter was six months old, eighteen years ago. Our new table was stored in my grandparents' garage while we lived with them waiting for our house to be built. On June 1, 1997 we moved into our home and used our family table for the very first time. One year later, our family table took the first of several journeys across the miles to another new home in Pennsylvania. During our two year stay in Pennsylvania, we received the phone call you are CERTAIN you will never get. Hearing the news of his mother's tragic death on the other end of the telephone line, our family table fractured under the weight of IronMan's anguish-filled fist. Cracked. Blemished. Forever.

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OUR FAMILY TABLE HAS HELD US WHILE WE'VE WEPT OVER OUR DEEPEST SORROWS.

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WE'VE ALSO EXPERIENCED OUR GREATEST JOYS AROUND IT.

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It's been a gathering place for each new little one that has joined our family. As they grew, all four of them found their own special place of belonging around the table. My kids have learned to read and write around our table. We've painted, colored, drawn, sewn, assembled puzzles, built Lego creations, clay creations, and craft creations. We've made play-doh cookies and Christmas sugar cookies. We've played Checkers, Uno, Parcheesi, Canasta, Chutes and Ladders, Connect Four, Monopoly, and Candy Land (a thousand and one times). We've rolled out pie crusts, assembled lasagna, and mixed up banana bread batter.



















It's held our Thanksgiving gatherings, our Christmas celebrations, our family Valentine's parties...















...and it's marked the quickly passing years with each birthday.
















The dearest hearts and dearest of friends have gathered around our family table.














That God-bless-it table has even held stacks and stacks and stacks of folded laundry waiting to be put away.

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OUR FAMILY TABLE HAS BEEN THE GATHERING PLACE FOR THE COMMONPLACE. 

BREAKFAST. 

LUNCH. 

DINNER. 

AND MOST THINGS IN BETWEEN. 

THROUGH THE YEARS, THE MEMORIES COLLECTED AROUND OUR RAGGED TABLE NO LONGER SEEM ORDINARY BUT EXTRAORDINARY. 

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Our table has journeyed many miles and resided in several states: Indiana, Pennsylvania, Colorado, Michigan, and then back to Colorado. It's moved with us, so far, a total of 4,445 miles.














FOUR THOUSAND, FOUR HUNDRED FORTY-FIVE MILES!

Our precious family table has been in Colorado storage for 39 months; 169 weeks; 3 years 2 months and 26 days; 1,183 days waiting for its (hopefully) FOREVER HOME.

ONE THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-THREE DAYS.  Sigh.

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WHILE OUR FAMILY TABLE HAS BEEN IN STORAGE, WE HAVE BEEN IN WAITING.

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Our family table tells a story, and I feel like our story has been on hold. But time doesn't really pause for us to take a much needed breath, does it? Especially, with kids.

THE CLOCK TICKS ON, AND WHETHER WE ARE LIVING IN AN IDEAL SITUATION OR NOT, WE HAVE TO MAKE THE BEST OF IT, AND MAKE THE BEST MEMORIES THAT WE CAN LIVING WITHIN THOSE CIRCUMSTANCES.

 ...even without our beloved table.

When we first moved to Colorado to live with my parents, we needed to rest. We needed a break to heal from twenty hard years of ministry. My parents, very generously, invited us to come and live with them. They have been a place to land more than once over the past twenty (plus) years. We will forever be grateful for their goodness to us. Missing our family table and what it represents is not a reflection on the memories made with my parents these past years (which are priceless), but my parents' house is not ours. It has been a resting place.

WHEN YOU'VE DESPERATELY NEEDED REST, AND YOU HAVE GOTTEN REST, YOU ALSO KNOW WHEN THAT REST TIME IS DRAWING TO A CLOSE. 

We have been displaced, but it's time for us to find our place again. It's time to begin again. We are longing for home.

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HOME...

Webster defines homeless as having no home or permanent place of residence.

This is something I've been thinking a lot about lately. I do think Webster is correct, but I also think being homeless has to do with belonging and purpose. It's so much more than not having a house or residence. We aren't where we belong just yet, so in a sense, we are homeless. Home also has to do with roots.

ROOTS...

Google defines roots as the part of a plant that attaches it to the ground or to a support...conveying water and nourishment to the rest of the plant.

Think of this in the aspect of home. Home is your place of belonging, but it's also the place from which you will be nourished as well as nourish. Home will be your support system. Home and roots go hand in hand. If your roots don't have a place to reside, they won't function to their fullest potential of nourishing.

Missing our family table has given me an opportunity to put into words this pining that we feel.  We long for our family table to, once again, collect the memories that tells the story of who we are as a family. Our table needs a house, and we need a home. Together, those two things will form our roots so we can be nourished and, in turn, we can nourish others.

I can say from the deepest part of my being that I believe our rest time will soon be over, and the deepest of our longings, for HOME, will be fulfilled. For our family, the biggest part of home for us is ministry. We are ready. We are ready for our blemished, ragged, imperfectly perfect, precious family table to come out of storage and find its place as the hub and life-filled center of our home, and we are ready to share that with others.
 













 We patiently wait, hope, trust, and believe that it will be sooner than later.

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Thanksgiving is just a few days away and, undoubtedly, most of you will be gathering around a table, perhaps even your own family table. This year, we will gather around my parents' table, and we will say thanks for the gifts we do have, which are many. If you are truly HOME, please don't take it for granted. Thank God for your roots, your belonging, your purpose, your house, your family. If you aren't quite yet home this year, hold on, dear heart. HOME may be just around the corner. There is always, always something to be grateful for. Always. I pray you will be able to see the gifts in front of you, and as you are, we are trusting God for the time when it might be just a bit different than it is right now. I truly believe that it's going to be BEAUTIFUL.

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Always grace,