It is early on a Tuesday evening when I walk downstairs to overhear my husband patiently saying to our daughter, “You know, there used to be a machine that you had to crank to get the ice cream to churn.”

I step into the kitchen to see the tripod set up. Both are looking into the electronic bubble-gum pink ice cream maker watching as it quietly rotates their mixture. Their latest Cooking with Rea and Dad episode involves ice cream and I cannot wait to see what they concoct.

I lean against the counter bracing myself for the “in my day” that will undoubtedly leave my husband’s mouth next, all the while thinking back to the countless summer nights spent sitting around an old-fashioned ice cream maker waiting for my own creations to finish churning.

“Did I ever tell you about my empty nest portrait that Gayle painted for me?” My sister-in-law Kathy asked me this over the phone a few weeks ago.

At the mention of Gayle’s name, I smile. Gayle is a dear family friend. One, whose friendship with my mother-in-law spans over five decades. Gayle is the friend that all our mothers pray we earn at some point in our lifetimes. She patiently listens, nurtures, and always gives an encouraging word.

However, more notable than that, Gayle is the friend that shows up. If there is a death in the family, Gayle shows up. A wedding or a bridal shower thrown, Gayle shows up. Through life’s victories or defeats, she continues to show up. I think of it as her own brand of superpower.

I sat and listened as Kathy’s story of the painting unfolded, and a thought dawned on me. Gayle shows up through her artwork as well. Her lovingkindness reflects with every stroke of the brush.

She uses her gifts to reaffirm faith, bless, and encourage many, and Kathy’s story provides a prime example.

Here’s the sweet account of a piece of artwork with considerable meaning:

Over the years, I have found myself drawn to the unique furniture living in the homes of my friends and family. When invited over for dinner, I often catch myself running my hands along a couch embellished with vintage fabric. I subtly trace the outlines of unique carvings decorating tops of tables or shelves.

The furniture draws me in, and before I am aware, my curiosity takes the lead, and I begin questioning the host about origin stories. I cannot help it. I need to know, and I find that that owner is often eager to share.

Last Thanksgiving, I found myself seeking out the story behind a familiar antique buffet table that resides in my mother-in-law’s, Lainey, dining room.

Here is what she shared about this sentimental piece: