One of the deciding factors when we bought the house we’re living in now was the spacious kitchen. I was impressed with the kitchen; obviously, the former owner loved to cook. The center island is big enough to accommodate a family of 6 (and we’re only 4!). Indeed, our kitchen is larger than the master bedroom and adjoining bathroom combined. Then, two years ago, we ripped off the old tiled countertops and replaced them with granite. Our kitchen now looks much more modern and sleek than ever before. Spacious and sleek. But the thing is – I never cook there. That is, since I fell ill in 2003.
To support my desire to cook and bake for the family (and help me pass the time of being homebound because of my illness), my husband had a mobile kitchen built for me. It’s made of wood, sturdy, and has shelves and wheels. It’s stationed at the far corner of our bedroom (last year, we acquired a portion of our patio to extend our bedroom). Since then, my mobile kitchen has become the hub of our family’s activities.
It is the gatherer of the family even, and especially, amid pain and turmoil to thank God for His mercies. For I have found out that the powerful antidote to rifts, divisions, and misunderstandings is a table laden with home cooked goodness sprinkled with sacrificial love and a mother’s straining for Christ’s light and beauty amid the ugly. At times, I call my mobile kitchen our thanksgiving table as hurting and hostile hearts are transformed in humility and gratitude and in surrender to Jesus’ faithful love.
A silent witness to a number of angry and painful exchange of words and tears shed, it is also a very tangible presence in victories won and celebrations of God’s deliverances. The hearer of expressions of regret, teary reconciliations, and heartwarming affirmations of love. And stories. Hundreds of them. Stories of long ago, of butterflies and fireflies, and of the very recent.
We lay our Bible on it, after the dishes have been cleared and the crumbs wiped out, to read and talk about the everlasting words that keep us alive and knitted together and that supply our peace and joy and every need and more. Much more.
Countless numbers of muffins, breads, cookies, and liters of ice cream, and other scrumptious desserts have “come into being” on my mobile kitchen, as well as generous servings of laughter, banter, and love.
School works, reviews, repairs by the handyman husband, chess games, and endless Facebooking happen around my mobile kitchen.
You prepare a table before me…
My cup runs over. (Part of Ps. 23:5)
My mobile kitchen is NOT a reminder of my disability but of God’s goodness and faithfulness and His constant presence in the lives of His children – in celebrations and in griefs, in triumphs, failures, and getting back up again. It tells the story of His mercies bestowed every morning and told over and over again.
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Journey with Jesus,