The lights are turned out one by one
as we put our feast on our family table.
It's not much, a pot of soup that has
warmed our home by it's smell for hours.
We come looking forward to the warmth
of the food and the candles and a father
who covers us with the word of God.
All things that keep us warm.
There is something about looking across
a candle-lit table into the eyes of your
children. Catching a glimpse of your husbands
smile as he listens to a story told by his 3 year old
stirs my love for him and helps me remember why
I fell in love in the first place.
Reminding my daughter that these tradtions
in her own home
will be what's remembered.
The night time feast.
The homemade bread and homemade butter
that sit and wait to be enjoyed.
We get out another candle and it's an invitation
to stay at our table for alittle longer.