I will strive to follow a blameless course;
oh, when will you come to me?
I will walk with sincerity of heart within my house.
“Would you mind throwing my music stuff in your car so I can practice after school?” my daughter texts, “It’s on the front hall table.”
I look at the front hall table and make a mental note to grab her music folder on my way out the door. And then I look at the table again, taking it all in.
A basket of Christmas cards still sits there, covered by programs from a recent show, a book, and some paperwork I don’t want to lose track of. The table is also acting as both the in-basket and the out-basket for the mail. Tickets for an upcoming concert lie nestled next to a random cup and a bag of birdseed that has been headed to the backyard for weeks now. And my daughter’s music stuff.
Originally, the table sat in my grandmother’s elegant front hall, but no one ever came in through the formal front door. We all came in through the kitchen. So this beautiful piece came to me in pristine shape—a condition it no longer holds.
But what it does hold is a true testimony to our household and the life we continue to build together. This table witnesses our comings and goings and the oft-ensuing chaos. Like the table I strive to keep what is important at hand and neglect to let go of what is past and collect various items along the way that really belong somewhere else. I am a bit worse for wear and could really benefit from some spring-cleaning.
But that will be later. I grab the music folder and head out the door.