Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

putting on the new

The one who makes room

One of my best memories of high school (and there are few) is the lunch table where my friends and I gathered daily to share a meal. We always chose a circular table, rather than the long, rectangular ones. Maybe it felt more intimate or inclusive. I don’t know why, really, but I remember the tradition of finding a circle table and pulling up chairs and squeezing in around it.

The table was meant to seat six, maybe eight, but as the year went on, we found ourselves making room for one more person, and one more. There were days that 10 or more teenagers squeezed around this table, elbows bumping, food overlapping, personal space non-existent.

And it wasn’t that any of us was popular or well-known or even particularly well-liked. No, we were more like a band of misfits. We worked on the school newspaper, played in the band, got good grades. You know who we were. We were not flamboyant or funny. In a crowd, we’d usually blend in.

But at lunch, we came together as a group.

And we made room.

Paweł Wojciechowski | Creative Commons | via unsplash

Paweł Wojciechowski | Creative Commons | via unsplash

Read the rest over at Putting on the New, where I blog on the 12th of each month.

Days of Wonder

I nestled into the window seat, nose practically touching the glass, eager for a glimpse of the world outside the plane’s climate-controlled interior. It was not my first flight, but maybe you wouldn’t know that if you sat next to me.

Whenever possible, I angle for a window seat. I like watching people, sure, but even more, I like seeing the world from an almost unbelievable vantage point–thousands of feet in the air.

How does one tire of soaring above the clouds in a man-made machine? Of starting in one place and landing in another in a matter of hours, having traveled hundreds, sometimes thousands of miles?

Want to read the rest? Head over to Putting on the New.