Love in a Nutshell – November: The Seat at the End of the Table

 Here is the November installment of Love in a Nutshell – A Maple Lane Mystery, where turkey dinners and table settings bring more than just warmth—they stir up memories, healing, and the quiet reassurance that we are never truly alone.


Love in a Nutshell – November: The Seat at the End of the Table

The leaves had all but fallen in Maple Lane, crunching beneath the boots of those carrying pies and crockpots into Clara’s house for the annual community Friendsgiving. Clara always made room for the “in-betweeners”—those without family nearby or those who simply needed a safe place to land.

Peter Wallace, the town's retired locksmith, was one of those guests. Clara had insisted he come, even though Peter had quietly declined at first.

It had been two years since his father passed, and something about this time of year tightened Peter’s chest more than any winter chill. He had loved Thanksgiving—the warm meals, the slow football games in the background, the father-son tradition of stringing lights the morning after. But now… everything felt hollow.

He still wore his father’s flannel coat. Still made the same cranberry sauce. But when Peter stood in the middle of his living room holding the bowl, he realized he hadn’t spoken to anyone in days. The truth was—he felt like a burden. An aging bachelor with no one really needing him. Grief whispered: Maybe no one even remembers you’re still hurting.

Clara did.

She sent Ben and Aimee to pick him up, insisting they needed “the best cranberry sauce east of the county line.” They arrived with goofy smiles, an extra pie, and a little red card Aimee had designed herself. On it, in her wonky lettering, was a lyric from Brandon Lake:

“This is a house of miracles.”

At the Friendsgiving table, Peter found his name written on a place card... at the head of the table.

“I thought that seat should be yours this year,” Clara whispered. “It’s where your dad always sat. And it’s where you belong, too.”

When someone asked what they were grateful for, Peter surprised himself by speaking.

“I’m thankful... for a seat at the table, when I didn’t think I deserved one. And for the people who kept it warm until I could come back.”

The room went quiet for just a moment. Then the laughter, clinking silverware, and hum of belonging returned in full.


Scripture Reflection:

Psalm 147:3 (ESV)
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”


Journal Prompt:

Have you ever felt like a burden or forgotten? What are the quiet ways God—or people in your life—have reminded you that you still belong?

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