Category Archives: Stories

Table Talk

I’m hanging away the freshly laundered, pressed “for best” tablecloth. I hadn’t planned to use it, but I’m glad that I did.

I had set out the Grandparents’ anniversary china with all its golden fancy. I love it for the stories that came with it and as the years have gone by, I’ve used it for many Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners enjoying the warmth and sparkle it brings to the table. The dishes make me smile. In spite of the elegance of gold, each piece is a little out of kilter and some are a bit flawed. In a way, they seem like family, all golden lovely but a bit flawed in the matching.

With the china came an exquisite hand embroidered table cloth – too special to use. This year when I went to the closet, I wondered why I was saving it. The size is perfect for the table and as I spread it carefully, I thought of the woman who invested countless hours creating such beauty in the later years of her life and I thought of her daughter-in-law who fearlessly gave tribute to occasions and her guests by using “the best” and most beautiful linens.

When we gathered round the table, the cloth was admired and I told a little of its story and mentioned that I wasn’t saving it anymore. In the quiet, my brother-in-law fingered the stitches gently with his work worn hands and thanked me for using it. I saw other fingers trace the stitched and as I looked at each face, I knew I had, in fact, saved it for the best. And, in a strange way it seemed as if the aged cloth imparted a kind of grace and dignity to the evening, a tribute to Thanksgiving and our guests.

I’m wondering what other things might be tucked in drawer or box or heart being saved “for best”. Best is now.

Pathways of choice

On a recent visit to Williamsburg, I noticed the variety of pathways. Some snapshots came tumbling out of my life box.

Once, I accompanied a little friend home from kindergarten. My memory of most of that event is dim. But I do remember the sidewalk. The surface was gone and we walked on loose pebbles close to a high hedge. I must have stayed for a while for I also remember a very tall man walking me back through the pebbles, past the school till I recognized my street and skipped home. I was not allowed to repeat my visit.

Older, I had a long walk home from school, usually alone. On sunny, hot days there was a decision to be made. Should I walk up the hill in the heat or cross to the shady side and risk being menaced by the collie dogs? When they were out, they ran along the top of a two foot high wall and barked shrilly in my ears causing me to tiptoe along the curbing and wait in dread for the cross light.

One last snapshot set from schooldays shows me, my little sister and another little girl waiting as the snow grew deeper and the busses fewer and more crowded. No room for three children. With no thought to ring the door bell at the school, I decided we would walk to my Grandparents home. After all, I had heard those tales of my parents walking home in all kinds of weather and although I had never done the walk, I thought I could find the way. Trudging on that very long, dark, cold and wet way, we were warmly greeted by a very surprised grandmother and taken to dry by the old coal cook stove. I, for one, was relieved to be “home”!

Life paths can be similar I think. Sometimes, I walk along anticipating adventure and fun but not paying any real attention to where the path will take me. Sometimes the way is known but seems fraught with distraction and danger. Life storms make me very uncomfortable and longing to arrive in safety and warmth and peace – home.

Dream Walking

I knew the destination and I desired to go. The way seemed so long and hard, so tiring,

that I was so very slow in making any progress. I noted that as I traveled, I began to see

groups of people along the way. Someone would break away from a group and come

to me giving love and a hug, encouraging me. Each of these encounters seemed to carry

me ‘till I felt I was stronger and knew that I was traveling faster.

As I woke, I knew that these strengthenings came from Gifts I’ve discovered and

embraced: dear friends who join me along this journey of life and faith. Thank you to

those I know and to those yet to be met along the way. You are precious to me and may

our encounters bring joy and strength to you too.

Dad’s Birthday

Memories drift across my mind and I hear my father’s voice in an exchange that often

came as I prepared to leave his home: “Thank you”, I would say. “Did you enjoy

yourself?” he would question. “Yes!” I would reply. Then he would say, “That’s all that

matters.” I realize now that this meant that all the planning, the work, the expense; it

was all worth it to him if we had enjoyed our visit and his provision.

Time has passed since those visits, by that flash of memory still questions me: Am I

enjoying life? Am I grateful for all that has been provided for my life?