Magic Happens at the Table

You can’t convince me that at every table you sit at, whether it be with family or friends, magic can happen. I guess it’s all in how you define magic.

Magic can be a late-night dinner with your daughter, where the food is cold and she is worn out from the day, but she opens up about what’s been hard. She picks at her food, but she has your full attention. And even though she only eats the red bell peppers and leaves the rest on her plate, she feels satisfied. You both do.

Or magic can be friends at a table, where there is a big spread of good food. Onions and bell peppers mixed with chicken and steak with laughter and rich conversation. Where a misbehaving daughter lays down on the bench and she needs to be taken outside to calm down but it’s all okay because friends can become family and maybe the table played a role in it all.

Or magic can be a new friend at lunch at the start of the weekend where the walls are lined with wine and the sandwiches are piled with thick meat and the brie is melted just right. Where you get to toast to her good news and celebrate years of hard work toward a dream she’s always held in her heart. And where you get to pour out your very heart and she proves herself a good listener.

And then she says, let me encourage you.

She continues, “It might be hard today, but your boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places.” And all of a sudden you realize that God can use His people to talk to you and you feel goosebumps up and down your arm because you know it’s true.

I’ve contemplated that statement for days now, “my boundary lines falling in pleasant places,” and it’s indeed true, however, it’s only true when I make sure I notice my pleasant places over my boundaries.

Pleasant places over the boundary lines.

We get most stuck when we focus on our boundaries over the abundant fields underneath our feet. But we can live our fullest lives when we start naming our pleasant places. Kids. Love. A good church. Fun new pink pants. New family members. And late-night calls to one another.

My boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places.

And it all happened at the table because you really can’t convince me. You simply cannot convince me magic doesn’t happen at the table.

Question: What are your pleasant places? Can you name them? Are your eyes more on your boundaries or on the abundance beneath you?