Down Home: Old table’s gone to a better place

OK, I know we shouldn't put too much stock in things. The stuff we own—houses, furniture, cars and clothes—are perishable. So are we. And the Apostle Paul advises, "the perishable must put on imperishable" (1 Corinthians 15:53). True value transcends objects we own.

But I've got to admit the truth: I've loved our old kitchen table. To me, it's an artifact of inestimable worth.

Not that Joanna and I paid all that much for it. We bought it more than 20 years ago, when our daughters, Lindsay and Molly, were little girls.

Before, we ate meals on the tiny drop-leaf table we bought when we married in 1979. The original drop-leaf served us well. But it was so small that if even one of the girls invited a friend over, we couldn't all sit and eat at the same time.

So, we decided to move "up" and dine from a bigger, sturdier table. We were a young family on a budget, so we shopped at our local unfinished furniture store and bought a table and five chairs.

Back then, "country" was the design rage. So, I lightly stained and varnished the table top and chair seats and painted everything else white.

Like I said, that was a long time ago. When a family eats at least a couple of meals a day from the same table year after year, it starts to show its age. And besides all that, styles change.

So, Jo's been saying we need a new kitchen table for at least five years. The girls agree. Even friends who come over for dinner agree.

When they look at the tabletop, they see years of use—at least two decades of wear and tear. When I look at that table, I see the little family who gathered around it night after night, raising two precious daughters. I hear the stories we told and recall the laughter we shared.

I remember when Molly startled us all by singing along with Celine Deion at the top of her lungs in the middle of dinner. I look at marks embedded on the surface and see Lindsay sitting there, doing her homework. I still feel the tears that dripped from my cheeks onto its top on 9/11. I see birthday cakes, and special meals, and the sweet evenings of "ordinary time" bringing up our darling daughters, and the conversations we had about life and faith and joy and sorrow.

So, for me, that old table's not an plank with four legs.

It's a relic of our lives, on which every scratch and chip represents a memory.

By now, you've probably guessed it's gone. And you're right. Jo finally found a secret weapon: She suggested we give it to our niece, Jaclyn, and her husband, Jason, who are raising three boys, Hayden, Bear and Landry. They needed a big, ol' sturdy table, and Jo knew exactly where they should get it.

That's great. They're a sweet family. We adore them. And I pray they make as many lovely memories around that table as we did when Jo, Lindsay, Molly and I sat there night after night.