If This Tree Could Talk

Happy TribeLife Tuesday! 

As I write this piece, I find myself in a sacred space, my computer resting upon the most amazing family heirloom: A Table. This is not just any table but my Granny’s table. She saved up her money so she could pay cash because back then that was the only option. In a day where thin plastic squares and instant rewards are a social norm, her saving would seem like an eternity. You see, this is no ordinary table: it’s priceless. This table had to seat her family of 7, not to mention cousins, neighbors, and anyone else they gladly welcomed in to share a meal. It was here—around this tear-stained, laughter-filled, handcrafted pile of wood—that life took place. 

I’m sure no one could have predicted who would be sitting around this table several decades later. But that’s the beauty of this sacred place, it’s ever inviting and very unpredictable. 

For a year, the Amish carefully worked that admirable walnut tree into a 14 person table where life could continue. There’s something humbling about sitting around this piece of history. Each ring, each gouge, each discoloration, tells a story worth hearing one hundred times over. There is glory at the table. It's a sweet, subtle companion that will never force its way in. The table is always present and waiting for you to pull up a chair and rest. It courageously soaks up words without judgment. The table is not biased, but is steady and glorious. 

Around each table there are stories waiting to be told. Stories that move us in ways we didn’t know we could be moved. Tables are for sharing burdens, for belly laughs, for tears, for resolution, for connection, for peace. This table I sit at now is a surrendered place, a safe place. But it’s not just Granny’s table, I long for each table I sit around to become as this one is: a place of connection, a place of peace, a place of resolve. 

This table was more than just a stately tower of bark, it’s a place for life to happen. 

Will you join me around the table?