Funky Table

I was desperate! It was late Saturday evening and I was dreading the last-minute preparations for the next day’s meal. I needed milk and cookies, so I escaped to the mega grocery store down the street around 10:00 p.m.

Somewhere between the frozen foods and vegetable aisles, I passed by the inspirational book section. John Maxwell’s book (co-authored with Les Parrot) entitled “25 Ways to Win with People” flung itself into my grocery cart. I hauled home a buggy-load of food, including that flinging-paperback and two bags of cookies.

Too tired to do housework or start preparations for the Sunday meal, I opted to feed my mind and spirit with some non-fiction reading before bedtime. I started reading “25 Ways”. I took that book to church with me the next morning. Read more. Read it while my beans cooked and my roast simmered. In less than 24 hours after it landed in my cart, I had read it from cover to covIn the “25 Ways” book, the author reminds us that “Few things bond people together like a shared memory.” One of the most inspiring statements in the book comes on page 27. “The richest memories are those we intentionally plan to create.”

These words rekindled the “fire in my belly” to live a life of creating moments for others. “What could I do today?” I mused.

As I was collecting ingredients for the super simple Sunday supper, I had an overwhelming impression to create a memory - intentionally. “Let’s eat in the front yard,” I suggested to my husband Mike, “and invite Janet (our next door neighbor who had been dealing with breast cancer) to eat supper with us.”

The backyard was a mess, we didn’t have a fancy outdoor table, and our lawn chairs were at our mountain house. But, it was time to do something fun that would minister to my sweet Janet. NO excuses.

I searched around the house and found a funky lime-green table, which sported four booted, striped legs, and stuff hanging off the edges. Mike hauled the table, plus three fancy dining room chairs to the front yard and parked them beside my one barely-blooming azalea bush. Mikes surveyed the eclectic combo, then looked back at me like I was a cracked crockpot.

Pot roast beef sandwiches were assembled and tossed onto mismatched paper plates with sides of potato chips and beans. I filled our glasses with peach tea and headed to the front yard for a spontaneous Sunday night supper experience at the funky table. Janet was totally surprised by the silly setting, and it made us all laugh.

I no longer have that precious neighbor with whom to share a spontaneous, simple moment. She lost the dreadful battle with cancer this year. The funky table and a photograph serve as markers to remind me of Janet and our time together.