The Kitchen TableSister Laurentia Carroll OP
Our table in the kitchen
is made of wood.
And where the chairs have hit the sides
a mark is there.
A reminder of the people
who have shared a meal or chat with us.
So, more a mark of friendship in the wood,
a reminder of absent friends and memories shared.
The legs are strong and sturdy like great oak trees.
Holding, like an offering, the gift of food and friendship
to nurture soul and body as we share the gifts of earth
with family and friends.
Placed on the table are the tools for the eating.
(‘Don’t eat with your fingers’ I hear being said!)
Yet frail fingers have
tilled the earth and held and stroked
the crying child in all of us.
Frail fingers, which with pen and plough,
wheel and knife, spade and brush
complete the Creator’s plan to
“Make all things new”.
The table top,
where bowls and dishes
hold the fruits of labour and of love,
the recipes of men and women
who capture in a meal the riches of the earth
and who with spices, sauces, fruits and feelings
serve to those they love a tribute,
a blessing and a gift
to nurture life within.
the centre of the family’s universe!
The meeting place of all the world within
the sacredness of family.
The silent witness to joys and sorrows.
The centre point of laughter, anger,
silent pain and cares.
the place of offering,
where each one present opens their soul
to the sanctity of this sacred place –
offers their thoughts and dreams and hopes
on the altar of acceptance and belonging.
The kitchen table.