What’s in Your Cup?

Think about it. Aren’t people a lot like dishes? We are born with our basic structure of who we are as an individual. Some of us are born porcelain cups, others clay mugs. We are painted in a multitude of colors. Some of us even have intricate patterns. We cannot choose to be a mug or cup. But each day, one serving at a time, we can choose what goes into our lives and how we can serve others.

As a young woman starting to set up a household, my grandmother bought me the most beautiful set of china. It looked very similar to her set, that I admired and loved. As a child, I often thought that someday I would serve my grandchildren on her set of dishes.

I remember my Grandmother would take out her beautiful china dishes on holiday occasions. I would eat until I was nearly sick. My grandmother was a good cook. I vividly remember one Christmas eve dinner at her house when I was rather small. She served a dark plum cake for dessert. It was drizzled with a white sauce. Its sweet, smooth taste lingered. With each breath I took, the warm sweetness filled my lungs. I asked my Grandmother for the recipe. She never gave it to me. It might have been because, she didn’t have a recipe to give me. She often made up recipes adding a pinch of this and a dash of that. –Or, maybe the reason for not giving it to me was because it probably had a tiny bit of rum added. I will never know.

There were also times when it was only the two of us. My Grandmother would serve coffee and cookies on her fancy china cups and saucers. She also loved to drink out of colorful long-stemmed crystal glasses and would comment, “It made things taste better.” Only once, when we sat on the dock dangling our feet in the lake, do I remember seeing her drink from a can.

My Grandmother always made me feel special. We would fill our afternoon together discussing things like an art project she was working on, her garden, and we would revisit her youth. We seldom talked about feelings, and yet, somehow, I felt she allowed me to be that clay mug. And to empty all the bad thoughts that had consumed me, working and associating with negative people.  Slowly, she would refill my mug with good feelings.

When she gave me the new dishes, I promised to take good care of them so that nothing would ever happen to any of the pieces. Wearing a forlorn smile, she said, “I don’t want you to pack them away. I want you to use them. Enjoy your dishes! And when one of the pieces gets a chip or a crack, don’t be sad. Look at that chip with fond memories of when friends and loved ones gathered around your table. Why have beautiful things if you can’t enjoy them?”

My grandmother has long since passed away. Over the years I’ve learned to view my life like this gift of china from her. Life and cups are fragile. In an instant, they are shattered and gone. Life is not easy. Along the way, dishes get chipped, cracked, and broken. We could keep them safely packed in the cupboard where there isn’t any risk of them ever getting broken. But nothing lasts forever. So, use what you’ve been given to serve others and make memories.

The trinket that I discovered from this old “mug” that may bring flavor to my children’s stories is to “Savor the damaged dishes just as much as the bright, pretty ones!  Serve delicious food in them and appreciate the good memories they bring you. Don’t fill your plate too full. Remember to save room for dessert. And don’t waste time filling up on things that are distasteful.”

Maybe if we share some of these simple thoughts, we could dilute some of the bitter things that are being poured into our cups and mugs. –The bitterness we also refer to as anxiety.

…After all, aren’t people a lot like dishes?


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