Siblings round the table at day's end

Siblings 'round the table
At day's end
Many years since it's been
Just us

Wives, husbands, kids
Usually
Take their place around the table

But not tonight

Not at the end of this day
Nor at the end of that day
Both days
Breathing has been labored

And we gather

Because breath and life have been a struggle
In & out
Out & in
Labored & heavy

It is just the siblings here now
Children grown enough
To leave the adults
At the table
No in-laws either
They are busy taking care of other things

Just us

Gathered at the table
At the end of the waiting day
The miles apart
Have lessened

The tubes
The struggling of breath
The need for cheering one another's hearts
That comes by being in this loss
Together

Together
Around the table
Where we fought about whose turn it
Was to do the dishes
And we teased and scolded
And ate many meals
Siblings only
Just like the days of old

Except now
The battle is for life and breath

We wish it wasn't the suffering
That brought us here
Yet, we are
Together again as
Siblings round the table
At days end

* * *
Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose.

Precious

O precious is the flow of the sweet half-n-half. Especially when your own son biked to the store, bought it with his own money (earned from other people), and wrapped it up as Mother's Day Gift. 


Coffee is all about the half-n-half and the teasing about mommy's 'precious', a safe subject that a 13-year-old son and mom can joke about. Makes it all the more precious.


Mother's Day morning was filled with many other delights.

Every good and perfect gift is from the Father above. 

So thankful for these ones. And the extra one that has been given for me to mother for a little while 
(I took a pic with all 'five' of my kids but am posting this one due to privacy.)


What are you thankful for today?

The Logic of a Four-Year-Old

Two days ago, I was trying to explain something (unknown to me now) to my four-year-old son. We were getting nowhere; so, I said to him, "You're not understanding me."

He replied emphatically and loudly, "I do understand you! But I don't know what you're talking about!"

I stopped and laughed.

Then, my husband said, "I guess that means he understands your English but not what you mean."

The four-year-old (whom we thought was no longer paying attention) said, "I understand that she's English."

"Except that she's not," said hubby.

We relived this moment tonight at the dinner table because hubby had printed a page from "the quote board" from his work. He had added this to the list. We read the silly quotes and laughed, including this incident from our house.

Afterward, the four-year-old came up to me and said, "I don't understand that you're English."

How about you? Do you ever have "conversations" like this at your house?

Overflow from the Dining Room Table

I like traditions. Both my husband and I grew up eating dinner every night around a table. It was a non-negotiable event. No music. No TV. Everyone who was home was seated around the table. Still when we gather with extended family, much reminiscing and laughter happens around the table. We do this now with our four children -- dinner every night around the table.

I like tradition. I grew up in a liturgical church that celebrated Advent with candles. Occasionally the church I attend now does an Advent wreath. When I saw Leila and Joanne celebrating Advent around their own dining room table, I knew I wanted to implement this, too. (Okay, I know that Christmas is done but my blog was just born!)

So I put together the Advent wreath above with supplies from home and what I couldn't find at home, I found at the Dollar Store. Whenever we were home for a regular meal during those four weeks before Christmas (there seem to be a lot of non-normal meals throughout the season), we would light the candles, sing O Come, O Come Emmanuel and read the suggested Scripture (from a bookmark I downloaded from Joanne's blog). After reading the Scripture, we would sing another Christmas carol or two based on the passage.

One night we read the familiar Luke 2:8-14 passage. And the obvious song choice was Joy from the Seeds Project that put Luke 2:8-14 to music. As we listened to it, tears began to trickle down my cheeks. I looked at my husband. He had tears, too. The song emphasized the joy and the peace that was ours because Jesus was born. We sang this song several times during Advent.

Then, the kids decided they wanted us all to sing the song for the extended family on Christmas eve. So we did. Kip learned the guitar chords. We played and sang from the overflow of our dining room table. Nothing fancy. Not the best performance in the world. Not for the stage. But six hearts praising God.

I heard the Christmas message in a new way this year. At my own home. At my own dining room table. We meditated on the Joy that will be for all people and peace to us.

Not that it happens all of the time. Most of the time the dining room table is loud. Requests for more food, not for this food. Squabbles between the siblings. My table is like your table. I just took a few moments do something else here and there. It would get late. The kids would complain and ask "Why are we singing this?" "Do we have to keep singing this?" But as I am still treasuring this Christmas moment from the overflow of the dining room table, it makes all the meal efforts worth it.

It encourages me to keep pressing on in the midst of the squabbles, the complaints and the mundane. To add a sparkle here and there. We didn't do all of our Christmas traditions. We didn't keep up as well with our usual Advent calendar or make Christmas cookies.


But we did sing as a family from the overflow of our dining room table where the praise started. And somehow that seems right and worth it all.