Come to the Table

I am so long overdue to begin writing again that I almost wonder if it’s worth getting back into the habit. (rhetorical question - I know that writing is something I need to do!)

As I’ve said before, writing is where I take some of the chaos that fills my mind and get it out there where I can take a look at it. Some of the stuff is “Stones” - reminders of places I’ve been on this journey and God’s faithfulness through it all. Some of it is lessons to be looked at, learned, and filed. Then there’s a whole pile of garbage - things that simply aren’t true, and that need to be taken out and exposed for the lies that they are. If those stay floating around inside for too long, they gradually become part of the way I think - lies that I begin to believe.

I guess writing is like flushing the biffy. Sort of. At least parts of it.

(Anybody from Oscoda remember this? “Go, Tawas, Go! Go, Tawas, Go! Around the bowl and down the hole - Go, Tawas, Go!”)

(Apologies to folks from the fine and friendly communities of East Tawas and Tawas City. Some old rivalries die hard - and probably should be flushed down the biffy.)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah...

When I don’t write for long periods of time, the clutter in my head grows almost as fast as the clutter that fills my house - and that is truly frightening. Problem is, I always seem to need to go “somewhere” to write. So that means packing up my laptop, heading out, deciding what to drink at whatever coffee house I end up at, and then getting lost in reading feeds in Google Reader. Not very productive.

Today, I think I finally found a place to write at home...

Whenever my mom would come and visit us, her favorite spot in our house is what we call “the Nook.” It’s off the kitchen, not really a breakfast nook but the closest our old dwelling comes to one. It has windows on three sides, so it gets the most light of any room in the house. Mom would usually get up before us, head out here and make some coffee, and spend time in the Word and in prayer.

(Sometimes, she’d also make some toast... and our cross-eyed German Shepherd, Buddy, would make his way out here for a little toast date with Grandma. It was years before we knew that was going on...)

The Nook was overrun with clutter, and we haven’t used this room for a long time. (Other than a crap catcher, that is.) Earlier this year, my nephew and I made a start into reclaiming the Nook, but it was nowhere near useable, until today.

Today, I decided to make a path to the table, clear an area, and see if I could find a place where I could write. Not perfect, it’s an island in the midst of stuff. But it’s enough room for my MacBook, a chair, and a rug for Ezri if she feels like joining me. There’s even room next to me for a coffee mug. And it makes me smile to think that I’ll be sitting in Mom’s favorite room with a cup of coffee, writing and reading and praying.

But not sharing toast with Ezri. She doesn’t get people food, and I stay away from bread. Poor Ezri - life is so unfair.

The table I’m sitting at has a connection to her as well. This oak table is the only custom piece of furniture we’ve ever owned (or are likely to...). It was made in a size to fit here in the Nook, although it expands when needed. (Not that there’s room to expand it - the Nook is pretty tiny.) The finish of the oak matches the paneling in the Nook, and we even have a napkin holder and lazy Susan that match it. (There’s also a thimble case, which needs to be hung someday.)

We bought this table with money from our inheritance when Mom died. I think she’d be pleased with that - a lovely table for her favorite room.

So I begin to write once again, sorting through the thoughts, ideas, memories, lessons and garbage roaming around in my noggin. Trying to make sense of it all - one sentence at a time.

See you at the table in the Nook - soon.