As the years pass, I am coming more and more to understand that it is the common, everyday blessings of our common everyday lives for which we should be particularly grateful.
― Laura Ingalls Wilder
I still remember the first time Mark sat down at my parents’ kitchen table, a honey-colored, drop-leaf table with matching benches my dad built from the wood of my parents old bed — the only table I can remember of my childhood. Our home often served as a hub where friends and extended family frequently dropped by to share a meal or an after-school brownie or a cup of tea/coffee. Always a conversation. As Mark joined us that evening for his first meal with my parents and five siblings, he asked my mother how many meals she thought had been eaten at that table. My mom laughed, speechless, as I imagine the lid to a chest full of snapshots of meals and moments at that table had been opened.
Mark and I now have our own large wood table, worn down (but not out) by cup rings and conversations. Often smothered in school work and coffee cups and laughter (or tears) and of course food, this table grounds us to the earth and gives “home” presence. These snapshots I often share on Instagram say everything and nothing all at once; they are the images of the often neglected “common, everyday blessings.” Through them, I remember not just what has happened on the table but also to give thanks.