The Displaced Kitchen

John and Angela's quaint little bungalow house was an exact replica of the home I grew up in just a few miles away, all 800 square feet of it!  The "foyer" was just a small "landing," which was the term we used back then for a small space inside the back door, just big enough for one or two people to stand.  There is a couple of steps up to the kitchen area from there.  The floor made a creaky noise as I walked across it, the kind that old homes make, a bit like the noise that makes you wonder what kind of family stories it's been a part of.  Who were the people who've walked on that floor 50 years ago?  What kinds of stories took place in that kitchen?

And just outside of that adorable little kitchen is a small wooden table, where a time or two I've shared a meal with John and Angela.  (I'm still waiting on the recipe for her beef soup!)  We've discussed scripture at that table, told stories about our families, shared prayers, heartaches, and struggles, and once I even heard John recite the beginning of Genesis 1 in Hebrew!  

After a flooded kitchen from the result of a recent pipe breaking in the dead of winter, a repair and re-model became necessary.  I heard the frustration in Angela's voice when we spoke on the phone.  Every woman knows, the kitchen is the heart of our homes - Life happens there, so to have everything displaced into another room for an indefinite amount of time while the kitchen is repaired and remodeled is stressful!  

I began to remember the creaks in the floor.  Would they be there the next time I visited?  Where would John and Angela eat during the re-model?  How would they make coffee?  Pack lunches for work?  How would they manage?   And for a moment, I remembered my own kitchen, and the table where I used to eat with my family, share stories, and hear about their day.  The kids are grown now, and our lives are intersecting in the kitchen less often.  Recently, I've wondered how I will ever write my "kitchen table devotions" if no one ever sits there with me anymore? 

But then, I remembered something about Angela and John.  I remembered a heavy downpour last summer when Angela accidentally left her Bible on the hood of her car.  The following day, it was ruined.  It broke her heart!  All of the writing on the pages was smudged and difficult to read.  She'd kept not only notes of what God revealed to her through the scripture written in that particular Bible, but her precious family memories as well.  John surprised her a few days later with a brand new Bible, and her son then offered to sit with his mom and go page by page by page, for as long as it would take, until all of her notes and memories were recorded again in the new one.  I remember how much that meant to her, that he offered to do that, and she lit up at the very thought of spending such quality time with her son.

Things change over time.  Not only do floors start creaking, but our kids grow up.  They sit at our kitchen tables less often, and that's okay!  Kitchens get displaced from time to time, too, and sometimes, we have to sit with our plates on our laps on the living room couch.  But none of that really matters.  I still have plenty to write about at my kitchen table, and Angela still has memories to write in her Bible.  She has a new grandchild coming soon!  Imagine the family history she'll be leaving him (or her?) in the pages of her Bible. Imagine the love notes she can write, and use for book marks on her favorite pages - Only to be found years later as her grandchildren go through the pages of her favorite book.  And it doesn't matter if she sits at the kitchen table, or on the living room couch while the re-model is going on.  The real "heart" of a home is wherEVER we sit with those we love!  And it doesn't matter how often!

Thanks, Angela.  If it wasn't for your displaced kitchen, I may have never put the often-empty chairs at my kitchen table into the right perspective!