The Family Table

This is my dining room table. We bought it ten years ago after a painstaking search for just the right one. “We need a table that seats ten,” we would say to the salespeople. Most places either didn’t have a table that big or it was way too formal for our taste. One salesman even went so far as to tell us that our dining room (which he had never seen before) wouldn’t hold a table that big.

Then we found this solid wood beauty at an unfinished furniture store in west Knoxville and knew it was the perfect table for us. You see, Jeremy and I don’t have just a ton of hobbies in common, but one thing that truly floats both our boats is hospitality. Never fancy or flashy, but we love having people in our homes and breaking bread together. It’s become a priority for us over the years to carve out time in our lives for the lost art of hospitality.

My hope when I bought this table would be for it to have stories to tell. This table has heard tales of laughter and tears, has probably heard a few swear words, has kept whispered secrets, and has been a place where we’ve reminisced cherished memories.

It’s held the spread of Thanksgiving dinners and all of my children’s birthday cakes and family game nights and extensive art projects. Last night it welcomed jungle friends; missionaries home on furlough for the first time in two years. We sat around this table and talked for hours about the beauty and tragedies of life, and I was reminded once again of how the purpose of this table is being used to bring life into our home.

Furniture is just a thing; a “treasure on earth,” if you will. But the life that has happened around this table with the people who have graced its side is part of the treasure we are storing in Heaven. I think about that every time I look upon this table that is never too big, and often not big enough. I think about the faces; your faces. And I give thanks and rejoice.

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