It’s About the People

When my boys were born, and up until they were twelve years old (it was then my oldest son informed me he was old enough to remember well enough on his own now, thank you very much) I wrote in journals for each of them, so that they, as well as me, could know and always remember how important their lives had been since the day they entered this world.  The impact that they, even as babies, had on the life of another.  Me, as their mother, as well as several others they’ve met along the way.

Those journals are filled with pages upon pages of the fun things we did together, the memorable and cute things they did and said, how much I loved them, life lessons I hoped to teach them, and motherly words of advice and “wisdom.”

I never wanted them to forget their worth in the lives of others.  And my love of words and writing was the best way for me to let them know that.

Several years ago I began another project, which at the time, I hadn’t realized how important it would become.

Again, it involved words, as well as people. 

So many family moments, conversations, dinners, and relationships happened around what many people see as a kitchen table.  But I saw it as so much more.  That table heard so many stories, happy as well as sad, saw a lot of tears, a lot of laughter and joy, and a lot of prayer.

It also kept my kids from getting into trouble a time or two by allowing them to feed the dog beneath its cover.

This project I began was to add to the beauty of the centerpiece of our kitchen.  A green and white checked table cloth with the names of those who have shared a meal with us at that table.  Those who chose to share their lives with us.  Each such an important part of our lives.

As they chose a place to write their name with a thin black Sharpie pen, I embroidered over their handwriting, securing their place at the table.

Each year earned its own color of embroidery floss, so we could always remember when they were at our house.  My boys wrote their names more than once, making it fun to see how their signature changed from year to year.

People who have left us for their eternal home  with God, have left a lasting impression at our table, a place we will always feel closest to them.  My husband’s mother and my step-daughter, Becky, being two of those treasured people.

My life has been so hugely impacted and influenced by the people in my life, and each one has left his/her handprint on my heart.

The next name to be written on that tablecloth is Jesus.  Because He is with us at every meal.  In fact, He will have his name in every color since the birth of the tablecloth. 

Grace to You.