Broken Vessels

I have a favorite mug that my mom gave me once for a Mother’s Day, years ago. This mug has served me well over the years (pun intended). It has a beautiful watercolor flower painted on it. It’s just big enough that it holds all my favorite coffee and teas. For lots of reasons, it’s my favorite mug. Well, due to its frequent use, it’s gotten some love taps and has a few chips out of it. Regardless, I love this mug. I don’t mind the chips. It still holds the coffee and I still enjoy looking at it. I probably refrain from using any other mug simply for the reason that there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with it. Chipped and all, it has not lost its utility. Sure, I have newer, less used mugs. But this one is special to me.

When I explained this to my husband, he asked me why I don’t just toss it and get a new mug. And it dawned on me why I love it so much. For I, too, have taken a few tumbles. I’m a little bit broken, a little bit chipped. I’m showing signs of my age, the wear and tear of my years and my, well, um, choices. And I’m lucky that my God loves me enough to not throw me away. Instead, He keeps me and He loves me, just as I am, chips and all. Actually, I think my chips make me even better suited to serve His kingdom. Because through my experiences and brokenness, I can see and love the brokenness in others. Aren’t we all a little broken? But we can still hold water. As long as we are breathing, we can serve our purpose. Every day is a new chance to do that. I’m claiming that opportunity each day; and each day, I am drinking from my favorite broken mug.