The Table by Chelsea Temple

He had so many orders he wasn’t sure how he was going to find the time to fill them.  A first-world problem, and one that he counted himself lucky to have. His furniture had been trending for the past six months due to some serious social media campaigning. His tables were the new “It” items in the online sphere. 

The little shop that he rented in town allowed him the space to work on the tables as well as take orders and deal with the financial side of the business. He had contemplated hiring help but never seemed to find the time. Besides the art was what really mattered, right? 

Currently, he was working on a round table and bench for a couple in Connecticut. Curving the wood took ages, but now, it was time to add the details. The husband had requested something special be carved to the underside of the bench as a surprise for his wife. It was a challenge, but he loved thinking about the wife’s expression when she saw it for the first time. 

The door of the shop sounds, and the woodworker brushes his hands on his demin and moves to greet the newcomer. He looks out over the counter but doesn’t see anyone. He takes one step closer and then looks down. 

“Sir, I’d like for you to make me a table,” a small voice says. 

The woodworker looks down and spies a boy of around eight years old. He’s small for his age, and a little disheveled like he walked here in a tornado. In his hand, he holds a small multicolored change purse. He offers it to the man. 

“I’d like a table for my future family. I’m hoping that this will be enough.” 

The man takes the coin purse from the little boy’s hand and weighs it carefully. Even before the newfound success of his business, it would be unlikely that this little boy would have been able to afford something from his shop. 

The man smiles. 

“For your family? You mean your mom and dad?” 

The boy’s smile falls just enough to be noticeable. 

“No, sir, I don’t have a mother or a father. I want the table for the family that I’m going to have. For my wife and our five children and grandchildren.” 

“Five kids?” the man asks with a chuckle. “Are you sure your future wife will agree to have that many?” 

The boy nods like it is the simplest thing in the world. 

“We will want to have a big family after growing up without one.” 

A pit opens up in the man’s stomach. “I see.” 

He had once thought that he and Cecily would have many children too. He would build them the finest table and chairs, and each night they would sit around it as a family and talk about their days. 

However, life has a way of surprising you and not always with good news. He looks at the small boy, and he sees a glimpse of the prayer that he had asked the Lord for, but had been denied. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” the man says. “I need some help around the shop. Some sweeping and whatnot. If you can come in Saturday mornings for a couple of hours or so then when you find this benevolent wife of yours then I’ll give you that table as a wedding gift.” 

The boy looks skeptical. 

“Is that a promise?” he asks, and the man thinks about the word “promise”. Hadn’t the Lord promised him a full life with his wife? Didn’t the Lord promise that he loved him and that all good things would come his way? Didn’t he promise that he would have a family of his own? 

Still, unlike the Lord, the woodworker would keep his promise. 

“Let’s shake on it.” 

***

Years passed and while the man never received the promises that he felt he was owed, the boy kept up with his end of the bargain. When he was old enough to do more than sweep, the man hired him to work the phones and file orders in the shop. In his spare time, he tried to teach the boy his craft. The boy wasn’t a natural, but he was persistent. Through their work, the two grew close until one day the bell shop rung again. 

This time he didn’t have to look over the counter to see the boy who wasn’t quite a boy anymore. And with him, shyly holding his hand was a girl. 

“I’m here for that table,” the boy said. “Do you have it ready?” 

The truth is that the man had been working on this table for the boy since the first day he came into the shop. Day and night, making sure that it was perfect, adding little touches here and there that he was sure the boy would love. He had hid it away, keeping it out of the boy’s sight just in case the Lord held back the promises that the boy was waiting on. 

He could bare his own disappointment, but he couldn’t stand the thought of this person that he had come to love feeling the weight of unanswered prayers. When the pair married, it was a small affair, neither of them having much family. Still, the table that the man had worked so hard on for all these years was the table that the bride and groom and the bride’s parents sat at. 

The woodworker looked around for his seat, shifting through the partygoers and trying to avoid small talk when he heard a voice call for him. 

“Where are you going?” a feminine voice called. 

“Yeah,” said the boy. “Your seat is right here.” The boy motioned to the seat beside his wife at the table that he had seemingly prayed into being. The woodworker sat and among the smiles, jokes, laughter, and memories he realized something. 

The Lord answers all prayers, but sometimes the answer is no. And sometimes, it’s yes. 

Chelsea Temple is an English teacher from East Tennessee. Her favorite part of having a relationship with the Lord is that she always has someone to see her classic "side eye" look. She believes that the Lord appreciates her humor while she tries to appreciate all of his. She attends Lyons Park Missionary Baptist Church in Church Hill, Tennessee.