"The Three Legged Table"
by Skipper Smeiska

Hello everyone,

Communication with my teenagers was always a problem for me. Most of the time if there was a problem, I was usually at work and Kathy had to deal with it. By the time I got home my teens, (and Kathy), were far beyond the talking stage and I felt like I was beating my head up against a wall. I had gotten in the habit of writing long letters to my boys in times of great internal family strife. I know both boys have kept those letters over the years. What I fail to speak, I can usually bridge with the written word.

Last September Joshua died three months after his 19th birthday. Our sole surviving child, Matthew, aged 17, idolized his big brother. Matt had a very brief period when he seemed to grieve, but then he shut up tight, like many teens do, and stopped talking to us about Josh. As we have been adjusting to our new family situation, the typical teen/parent growing pains have been flaring up. However, because of the extra strain of Josh's death, unspoken and underlying everything, emotional charged arguments seem so much worse, unproductive and hurtful. This was particularly true as we approached Christmas.

As before, I was always arriving home after the infighting was over and nobody was communicating. So I sat down and wrote a little story that I gave to Matthew disguised as a Christmas card. It had such a positive effect on Matt, that he put in a lot of extra effort to hang closer to us, at least through the holidays. I want to share it with all of you. I hope it will give some of you part of the great strength and encouragement you have given to me.

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"The Three Legged Table"

There once was a artist who liked to work in many forms of medium. He produced all types of works, in ink, in oils and watercolor. In spite of his success, there was one thing he wanted more than anything; to be considered a master in working wood- a carpenter. There were many attempts to make a work of art using wood, but he was always disappointed with the results. Yet, the artist continued to try. He made ashtrays and dishes and large wooden bowls. He made a chair and a bread box and several wooden shelves. He tried decorative door frames and a jewelry box. But no matter what he produced, the end was always the same. No matter how good an artist he was, he could not extend his talent into wood.

There came a day when the artist's wife asked him to make a table. With his usual enthusiasm, he set out to make the best table he could. He worked long and hard and when the table was done, he brought it into the house from his workshop. Like his other works before, the table was very plain. It had no distinguishing features, it had no special shape. It was just a table. But the table was solid and strong. His wife put a cloth on the table and it became part of the household.

As time went on the artist was happy with his plain table. His family gathered around it every evening for supper. He played games with his children at the table. He wrote letters to his friends there. His children did their homework. His wife made cookies and treats using the table. The table remained firm as his family and world grew around him.

Then one night a thief broke into their little home. For some unexplainable reason, he stole one of the legs to the table. When the artist found his table missing a leg he was saddened. How can he ever use his beloved table again if it only has three legs?

At first he put some heavy items on the opposite corner of the table. This kept the table balanced so it wouldn't fall over. But the stuff on the table took up much room and left little useful area to use. And there was always the problem of putting something on the table too close to the corner where the missing leg was and upsetting the table all over again. It was so frustrating. Soon the leg below the corner where all the balancing weight was started to move out and away from the other two legs. It looks as though the table was doomed to collapse.

That night the artist prayed that his table could be saved. The next morning he took the table back to his workshop and started to carve, sand, cut and shape. It was a very long and difficult project, but he was inspired to finish. When he was done, he brought the table back to the house. It was slightly smaller, being a three legged table, but it was strong. It was also wonderfully carved and shaped. It was unique, beautiful and functional. It was a work of art. The artist finally became the carpenter he wanted to be, and his family had their precious table back.

Our little family is like that table; once steady and strong. Then we were robbed of one of our legs. Now that table wobbles as we try to balance it. We have put extra weight here and there on the table to keep it from falling. But this is only good for the short run. The weight is already contributing to the legs slowly moving apart.

The artist knew his limitations. In faith, he asked for divine guidance and was inspired. We must have faith to reshape our table. It will not be by shifting the weight with bad feelings, harsh words, and misunderstandings. By faith, and by love, we can hold the table up. No matter how far apart we may be, in the future, or now.

By whatever faith you have, draw on it. By whatever love you have, believe in it. Whoever you hold dear, tell them, show them. Do these things and you will stand forever against tremendous odds. And our little table will always stand, as long as it has three legs.

Merry Christmas Son

Love, Dad

December 13th, 1996

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smeiska[at]tidalwave.med.ge.com
"Life is not fair- God IS"

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