Beautiful. Just beautiful.
Saturday morning my daughter had a soccer game. Pollen permeated the air, my need for caffeine consumed me, and the urge to write itched in my fingers, so I sought refuge at a nearby fast food restaurant. This is an expensive area of town, and, predictably, even the local Chick-fil-A was tastefully decorated.
A large wooden table stood in the middle of the dining area. It was about waist-high and long enough for ten or more people to gather. The wooden legs were rough-looking: discolorations, nail holes, paint streaks. Yet they were polished smooth, their ends capped with steel. The ends of the wood tabletop were painted, emphasizing the grain.
A plaque at the end of the table reads,
This table was built by artisans from A Better Way Ministries. The materials used were salvaged from unwanted and abandoned homes. The hands that built it belong to a person who…
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