My wife just brought me to tears.

Not with an argument. Not with criticism.

With a story about our kitchen table.

I watched 5 kids grow around that table. Heard a thousand prayers sung. Cleaned up ten thousand spills. Played Phase Ten until midnight more times than I can count.

But I never saw what she saw.

Through her eyes, our table became a witness—to faith lived out in mac-n-cheese prayers, to legacy built one “Thank you, Jesus” at a time.

If you’ve ever wondered what it looks like when a woman truly sees the holy in the ordinary…

Read this

Warning: Keep tissues handy.