A broken mug

As a whole I am not a sentimental person.  I do however have a few possessions that I value because they are my favorite.  One is my gigantic Eeyore coffee mug.  I have had it longer than I can remember, it holds nearly a whopping 3 cups of coffee.  It is the best.

Or it was.

A few nights ago, just as I was leaving from a meeting.... I got a text from my teenager.

"I broke your Eeyore coffee mug.  It slipped out of my hands.  I couldn't catch it."

My immediate response was "Are you ok?"

She replied, "Yes."

And then I said "That is all that matters.  It's just a cup.  You are more important."

Now you are probably wondering what is so remarkable about this reasonable response. It is remarkable because it is a new one for me.  Not that long ago, I would have certainly been concerned for my child's welfare....but I would have been volcanic about it being broken.

My normal response would have been...

Why are you using my cup?

This is why you shouldn't touch things that are not yours!

There are 100 cups in the house, why did you have to use mine?

This is why I never buy anything nice!

Does any of this response sound familiar to you?

Just a few months ago, I was reminded of the anniversary of my friend's daughter passing.

She was a spunky 8 year old, who was living her life to the fullest, and defying odds every day she was on this earth.  They were told to abort her, that she would never make it out of the hospital.  Yet she graced this earth for 8 wonderful years, touching the hearts of many, and paving a way for children who have her same condition to live a longer life.

How could I be upset over a stupid coffee cup, when I have a friend mourning the absence of such a prominent figure in her life?

I'd break and throw away everything in my house that has any value to me.... in order to keep my kids here with me.  I know heaven is great.... but I'm going be selfish on this one.

When I got home, my husband confessed to me that she was a wreck over having telling me.  Her sisters had chided her with the standard "mom is going to be mad, you are going to be in so much trouble".  In fact, I believe I heard something about them vying over which one of them was going to tattle on her.  I also think that is why she texted me.  She knew she wanted to tell me first.  But, she also was so worried about response, the text was safe.  I'd have time to cool down before I got home. 

I told him, I was glad she was brave enough to tell me.  Even if by text.  She could have easily tried to hide it or fix it.  We've all seen the sitcoms based on just this scenario.

Funny how 15 years into this thing called "motherhood" and I am just starting to figure it all out.

Or, maybe not.  Apparently I need to have a conversation about tattling again.

Transparency

I am a fairly transparent person, always have been.  To the point, that my mom wouldn't allow me to open gifts in front of people.  I wasn't rude.  She said you could read it on my face.

When I am happy, you know it.
When I am sad, you know it.
When I am angry.... um, yeah.... it's obvious.

When I speak, I say exactly what I mean.  I don't mince words.  There is no hidden subtext or agenda.  A question is just a question.  Nothing more than my settling my own curiosity.  If I have an issue with the situation or your answer, then I will speak my mind.  If I say nothing more, that means your answer satisfied my curiosity.

I also generally have an "agree to disagree" personality.  Which is why I can be friends with people who have different opinions than I do.... politics, religion, etc.  I don't mind if you have a differing opinion.  What I do have a problem with is when a person is expressing an opinion as fact, or that is 100% in accurate.

Recently someone very close to me hurt me very deeply.  Her comments stung not because of any conviction on my part... but because someone who I thought was so close to me would say something so horrible.... and untrue.

What also upset me was that this person was standing firmly in their righteous indignation, to the point of passing judgment upon others & expecting them to take this criticism .... totally unapologetic..... yet was the first person to throw a complete and total tantrum if someone where to dare correct her.

It brought me to this question:

Do we really want true authentic, transparent friendships?

Or do we really want a one way glass....where the other is transparent and we can pick them apart but yet our flaws are totally concealed to them, leaving us beyond reproof.

Depression....

Depression.... an old foe.  Something that I try to ignore and get past.  Something that likes to rear its ugly head every now and again, to pull the carpet out from underneath me.

It found me yesterday.  Born from anger, fed by disappointment, leaving me lying on the couch waving my white flag.

It exposed my lonliness.
It revealed my unfulfilled longing.
It rubbed my heart raw.
It ensnared my thoughts turning them against me.

It proved to me all my suspicions to be true.
It broke me.

It said..... You have no real friends, not true ones who you can really count on.
It said..... They talk about you behind your back, spreading lies and misinformation.
It said..... They look down on you & think you are not worthy.
It said..... They think you are a bad parent.
It said..... They think you are a bad Christian.

It spoke in quiet whispers in my head.
It spoke in booming words from my own lips as I repeated the thoughts it planted.

It brought me to a place of simply just wanting to leave.  To find somewhere new to live, to pick up the family and just move.  Go elsewhere.  Leave it all behind.

It brought me to a place that said forget everything that you enjoy doing, just stay home with your family.... they are the only ones who care anyway.

It also brought me to my knees.  Praying to God to reveal what lesson there is all that is going on in my life.  What can I learn here?  Why do I feel so disconnected?  Where are you moving me Lord?

You see... when Depression shows up on the doorstep.... I try hard to not let it in.  But sometimes that door gets opened, despite how much I push it closed.  And like an unwanted house guest, I entertain it for a while.  And then, when I have had enough .... I send it packing.



Depression doesn't own me.  It doesn't define me.  It can't steal my hope, or my joy.  There will be trials in this life.

.... I can overcome those things.

Because God is bigger, better, dependable and gracious.

He promises a hope and a future, not harm.

I hold to His promises.  His word never fails.