My heart was in a good place when I requested my husband to include a marble island in our tiny kitchen, to which he readily obliged. We were a young couple brimming with hopes and dreams as we started building our first home. To my mind, it wouldn't hurt if we used the few pieces of immaculate white marble tiles that were left with my side of the family after enduring a business bankruptcy just years before I got married. I wanted it to serve as a reminder of the Lord's faithfulness and lovingkindness for the next generation to see. How He gently ushered my family of origin into a life of full dependency on Him in the '90s, minus the earthly possessions that my parents had invested in through years of honest and gainful hard work. It will be a reminder of how the Lord saw us through during the humbling times of letting go by way of eviction. Back then, eviction, spelled with a big "E", was not yet glamorized in the entertainment industry such as in the reality shows on TV that we have now.
Having said that, it only goes to show how important it was for me to see those remaining marble pieces installed on our kitchen island, even though they were no longer on-trend at the time. Wala na sa uso. Marble manufacturing had become obsolete as quarrying in Mindoro was banned by the government making marble tile installers very hard to find.
Back to the celebrated marble island: as I considered its potential for gathering our loved ones, close family members, and friends, I envisioned a little nook where I could serve tea and coffee while random bursts of laughter filled the air. After all, isn't that the point of hospitality? It is to provide a platform for connection, as we were created by God for relationships and thrive in them. It provides a safe place for your people to convene and express themselves freely—to be heard, to recharge, and to know and be known. To bless others and in return, be blessed. Then, you repeat the process, because memories are made through repetition. The marble island is placed within arm's reach of the kitchen countertop; what could be more proper and convenient for a hostess wannabe? Picture Nigella or Ina here.
With 49 square meters of open-concept living space, this was not bad for a young family of three—until one more addition, a baby boy at that, came into the picture shortly after we moved in. My expectation of a cozy marble island was slowly altered by the reality of an ugly, immaculate white marble table sticking out of our now-cramped kitchen space. It was an eyesore, to say the least. With the baby walker and high-chair, the preschoolers' books and counting manipulatives, the dirty dishes to wash, and the clean laundry to be folded and pressed, ALL these concerns competed for my attention in the already cramped space, for the life of me.
Tea and coffee were not served, as we had not invited family and friends to come over. This season lasted a few years while we figured out how to feed and nurture our growing family, how to homeschool our two young ones, and how to stay collected. While these events transpired, we enjoyed the safety and comfort of living a semi-incognito lifestyle.
The Evolution of the Island
- By Day: A homeschool desk, meal-prep station, and a quick breakfast nook.
- By Night: A monkey bar and a fortress for an army of two.
Got the picture?
The Fantasy vs. The Reality
"Form follows function" is a very valuable principle that we learned alongside adaptability as we made this kitchen element work for us in an unorthodox way. This has helped us to frame our perspective as we tackled the many "wrongs" we discovered along the way. As new homeowners, we realized that it came with the territory; we worked around the rough edges and learned to embrace what we had—the good and the bad—and be at peace with it. The scripture from Romans 8:28 delighted us as we were constantly reminded: "And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose." Hence, we birthed "This Rugged-Joyfull Home." Incognito no more!
We have since built an additional 60-square-meter kitchen space next to our original 49-square-meter living space. This was to become the heart of our home, big enough for everyone to fill; our response with a vengeance to our cramped kitchen layout from the start; our response to a wrongly and/or rightfully constructed marble island in our first kitchen—which, of course, would depend on how you look at it. It's still there, looking sturdy and proud.
As our people have grown, we have grown, too. We're loving how our first home ages through the years; it's looking older than its actual age—full of character, full of objects vintage and thrifted. My kitchen hutches are fully stocked with tea and coffee, sugar and cream, and cinnamon sticks, if you please. The large farmhouse table complements the look of our velvet-white walls; the distressed chopping table, whose legs I personally designed a lifetime ago, has always served its purpose, inviting everyone to come to the table and dine with me.
I rest my case. Period.
