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It is sturdy, made of smooth wood, with plain, strong legs.
It isn't wide, but it is long. We can gather our children
here and each cherished grandchild. Our table has room for
friends, those who wish to rest, to reflect, to simply sit
a spell, to share laughter, to cry, to eat, to drink, to
belong. It is a place for strangers, friends we have not
met yet.
Our table is simple. It would look out of place in a formal
dining room. It looks best here, placed next to the kitchen
of our lives. It is not grand, nor ornate, yet it is beautiful.
It can hold fine china or a mixed array of everyday dishes
with equal grace. Our table is polished with tender affection,
with a decided choice to listen and respond, with trusting
openness, honesty, compassion, passion, humor, and a soft
cloth of kindness. We sit here with a respectful tone of voice,
with courtesy, with good manners.
Offenses set upon this table are forgiven. Confusions laid here
are cleared up. Tears poured here are lovingly dried away. Our
table's surface is cleaned daily, we are careful to not laden
it with leftovers from yesterday, which have grown cold and old.
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