The Teacup


Scripture for the day:  Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.”

It was mid-June 1967, and my world was shattered by a phone call.  It was hard to even recognize the voice as that of my mother, and her words were incomprehensible to me.  “Your daddy has been in a bad accident.  He’s in ICU.  I’m not sure he will be alive when you get here.”  I threw some things into a bag and headed for the hospital.  I was an hour and a half away, and I prayed the whole time.  “Please God.  Let him live until I get there.”  God not only answered my prayer, he gave me an additional seventeen days before He took my daddy home.

 

The life I had known for twenty-three years lay shattered around me like a china teacup.  I was numb, angry, confused, and I felt a sadness that was almost unbearable.  There was a hand reaching down to comfort me.  Arms longed to cradle me, but I was consumed with WHY.  It wasn’t just a question.  It was a demand.  It was a huge, ugly, black word that hung between God and me.  WHY, WHY, WHY.  Why not the wino on the corner?  Why not the elderly man longing to go to his heavenly home?  Why not the woman with a terminal illness?  Why my daddy?  WHY, WHY, WHY.  No answer.

 

I picked up the broken pieces of my life and stuffed them in my pocket.  I walked away from the God who had always provided for me, always protected me, always loved me.  I took the broken pieces and glued them together.  My life definitely wasn’t a china teacup now.  It was more like a mug.  It was stained, crude, ugly, and it leaked.  It was somewhat functional, though, and I was determined to like it.  It was mine.  All mine.

 

I struggled with that ugly mug for years.  I remembered the beautiful teacup that had been my life, but the big, black WHY was still there.  I knew all I had to do was reach up and extend the mug to God.  He was willing to take it and make it into a teacup once more.  I was stuck in vanity and pride, anger and bitterness, however, and I refused to reach up.

 

Finally, though, the WHY lost its significance.  It didn’t seem to matter anymore.  It was just a word.  It didn’t need a response, and so I put it at the foot of the cross.  That simple act of submission was all it took to restore fellowship with my Father.  Slowly but surely, He took the mug I had made and started making it into a beautiful teacup.  It didn’t happen overnight, but it was wonderful to watch the process.

 

I imagine there are beautiful teacups in heaven.  Some day I will sit with my daddy again.  He will have coffee; I will have tea, and we will have eternity together.

 

Song for the day:  “Everything Falls” – Fee  

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rk4A5647xHw

 

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. momandprophet
    Oct 26, 2012 @ 22:12:26

    Don’t you think that you’ll be able to drink coffee in heaven? I think everyone will drink coffee in heaven. 🙂

    Thanks for sharing your heart, Mom. Love you.

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