Mystery
There is a table in our kitchen that used to belong to my parents. Before that it was in a little cottage in the woods. Way before that it was a tree. Between the tree and the time my dad acquired the table, there is a great deal of unknown history. The first time we sat at it in our house, the known history of my family's time with the table was enough to bring my husband and me to tears. And there is so much more we can only imagine.
CHORUS:
Gather at the table, pull up a chair
A little conversation happens there
Somethin’ ‘bout this table and its history
Some of it we know and some’s a mystery
Once it was an oak tree up north in Ohio
Standin’ tall and strong through years of sun and snow
Maybe hit by lightning, maybe felled by wind
Surely there was thunder as it cracked within
Two planks to reach across, about a forearm wide
Thicker than my hand, the center groove off to one side
Seven feet from end to end, a trestle underneath
Runs between two mighty legs that rest upon four feet
CHORUS
Dark brown and smooth, but for the knot where I sit
Shaped like a star, indented where my fingers fit
Children playing games while women mended what was torn
Fingers met across this table and plans were born
Handmade by a carpenter in another time and place
Passed down through families, Thanksgiving saying grace
Babies taking their first meals here have babies of their own
All hands that touched this surface join us in our home
CHORUS
BRIDGE:
We are blessed to have this in our kitchen
So many stories to listen…..to, as we gather at the table, pull up a chair (continue chorus)