“The Table”

This morning as I sat with my daughter sipping on my hot cup of coffee my mind trailed off to the thought of my table. My table isn’t beautiful, it’s worn and it’s missing a drawer. The top is scuffed up but it’s still flat. It has stubborn stains I couldn’t wipe or wash away. Then I thought… maybe this table is a metaphor to something deeper.

Before my counseling session today I hurried up and wrote down my thoughts about the table. I wrote,

“A table is just a table, no matter how ugly or beautifully made. It is just a table. What makes or brings it meaning are the people who sit and surround it. The memories that are made. The good company you keep and however fine the cuisine you eat upon it, whether it be grilled cheese or a five course meal. A table is just a table however ugly or beautifully made. It is just a table.”

During counseling today we were talking about an exercise I did in basic with my platoon. The exercise I brought up was the “Trust Fall.”  Its where you stand on a ledge and your platoon catches you from behind as you allow yourself to fall backwards. I remember explaining to my counselor how hard it was for me to trust before this exercise. Both my mother and father did things that made it extremely hard for me to trust people. On that day during basic I remember falling back off of that ledge and feeling the pain of not being able to trust leave my body as I felt my sisters catch my fall. Looking up at my sister’s faces as they caught me made me feel safe and secure. The feeling deepened as I did the same for them.

The trust fall taught us how even tho we may fight among ourselves, we always had each others back. I used this analogy when we spoke about the experience I had with my husband. How I was always quick to apologize for the actions I caused yet somehow he was never able to do the same for me. Instead, it was all my fault. It was always my fault. He was never there the way my sisters were there for me when I needed him to catch me. Instead, he let me fall and kicked me down further by blaming me for everything.

Now back to the table. After counseling I looked back to our discussion about the table. It’s funny how I brought up the table and I started to realize the table I was talking about was me.

I am stained and deeply scared by those I love and loved. Whether it be from a c-section or being physically or verbally or emotionally abused, I was hurt and those hurts left an impression in me that will be hard to get rid of. Some of those hurts I don’t ever want to forget such as giving birth to my twins by c-section (the joy of meeting my forever loves the first time took that pain away), but some I wish I could forget.  Either way I’ve lived and learned however painful they were I’m here today to tell a story regarding where each of those stains and scars came from.

Back to the table and relating it to me. Yes, it is what it is. We surround our table with good company and place good food upon it and sometimes we accidentally let the bad people and not so good food sit or placed at our table. Regardless through wear and tear my table aged. Some may view my table as beautiful while others may view it as ugly. But it’s just a table, the love and feelings surrounding it makes it what it is. It still serves a purpose and that purpose is to bring people together to love and enjoy one another no matter the scars and stubborn stains it has. It’s still flat and it can be covered but its amazing and it never let me down. The memories of my children surrounding my table proves to me it can take a beating.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. ~ Regina

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s