The rhythm of a simple home
This is the table that my son-in-law made for me.
I have some tiny, pottery vases filled with bits of Lavender and other little things
something gone to seed and a feather...
When they were growing up, my children often said that they wished we had new things in our house.
But everything in my home has a story and most of it is old.
As I sit to drink my coffee in the early morning hours
I always think of my son-in-law in his workshop building the table
and my grandson helping his father sand the wood,
my granddaughter playing underfoot,
my daughter making dinner and holding the baby.
The wooden table top is reclaimed from the jail of the small town my son-in-law grew up in.
He has a friend who was doing some work there and they let him keep the old wood.
I think of it as a table of amazing grace
Once upon a time a sinner may have entered that Andy Griffith jail cell lost
but come out found.
Blind but now they see.
"Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me."
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