A Cup of Comfort

Before I get into the title, let me brief you on my day.

I took my dd in to school this morning, which she was not at all happy about. This may have had something to do with the fact that every hour to hour and a half last night she was up, crying, for at least 15 minutes at a time. It also may have something to do with a week and a half off of school. But regardless of the reason, she was crying and throwing a fit and telling me I don't wanna go mommy. Now I tried finding out why, but all she could say was she wanted to stay home. I have no idea what it was all about but there it is.

When I was filling my gas tank (at 3.01 a gallon. That's a rant all in its own) I got a phone call from the place I had applied to be a dental assistant. They were offering me the job. I have only been out of school for 2 weeks ladies and gents so I am super excited. To make it better they offer good pay (2-3 dollars higher than the average around here for similar positions) and good benefits.

This took out half of my running around for today because I was going to run to the city to fill out some paperwork but tomorrow I have to go in order to do a drug test and so, I didn't go. Still went to town and helped Gpa clean up his apartment but it was a 15 mile drive instead of a 40 mile drive. No need to go when I don't need to.

Also when I was in town I invested in a new Bible (don't ask) and a book that caught my eye. When I was in high school my mom bought me Chicken Soup for the Soul and I loved those stories. The books I had (For the teenage soul, etc) are well used and well loved. Today I saw a book A Cup of Comfort for Women, edited by Colleen Sell. Obviously not the same but similar in a lot of ways. One story in particular caught my eye, and my mind. I'm including it, however this is not my work.

The Mended Cup

I was a little anxious about how Maggie would recieve the gift. It was, after all, old and used and in less-than-prestine condition.
Maggie Maw, my granddaughter, was moving out of her parents' home and into her first apartment. She had come by to pick up Grandma's contributions to her new furnishings. She untied the bow, unwrapped the violet crepe paper, and stared down at the gold trim of an antique cup.
''Grandma, it's beautiful,'' she said as she lifted it from the packaging. Then, seeing the cracks in the base and the handle glued on with epoxy, she added, ''But...this cup is broken.''
''No, honey, it is mended,'' I said. And then I told her about the cup's history.

That cup was given to me long before you were born by one of my dearest friends, Dianne. Remember when you and I used to play tea party when you were little? Well, my friend and I would share tea times just like that. We'd get together often, to talk over tea about all the joys and challenges that life had presented us with. We always set a lovely table with fine china and embroidered napkins and home-baked cookies. That teacup has heard many interesting stories and more than a few secreets. Many teardrops have mixed with the tea and cream and sugar in that cup. Why, the very day you were born, we celebrated the joy and excitement with our special teatime.
In those days, women rarely went to therapists and psychologists with their problems. They went to one another. My friend Dianne lived just up the street. There were many mornings when I would run up to her house in my robe and slippers, and we'd sit by the fireside and sip our tea. When I had a problem, Dianne would listen and comfort me. And she would come to me in the same way. We were each other's confidantes and conselors, but more than that, we were friends.
Dianne and I both loved pretty things and looked forward to setting our teacart with fresh flowers and fine china. Our worlds ran parallel in many other areas as well. When she got divorced, so did I. When she lost a loved one, the same would take place in my life. We were constantly comforting and being comforted by each other. I'd show up at her door, or she would show up at mine, cup in hand, and then the healing process of talking and listening, of sharing and supporting, would begin.
It wasn't always a crisis. Sometimes - actually, most of the time - we would sit in pleasant company and discuss the color of wallpaper, where to hang a picture, and girly things, like makeup and hairstyles. I remember how excited I was when I bought a gorgeous dress for my class reunion. I couldn't wait to show her, and, of course, she offered to lend just the right piece of her jewelry to complement it.
Men were always a popular topic. When we were single, we'd compare notes on the men in our lives and on the attributes of the ideal partner. We could go through a gallon of tea on those nights, discussing all the toads we had kissed before we found our princes.
On summer nights we took our tea out on the patio with lit candles and fresh flowers, discussing life and the pursuit of happiness. We sipped as the season - and our lives - changed. When we were confused, after one of our teatimes everything seemed to make sense, if only for the time it took to brew and enjoy our tea together. As I look back on those many years, I can barely recall most of the heartbreaks and headaches that sent me shuffling of to Dianne's in my slippers, teacup in hand. But, I remember vividly every one of our teatimes, and treasure those memories.
Eventually, Dianne moved away, but I kept my teacup and would think of her whenever I used it. Then I sold my house, and while packing, I dropped my special cup. I did the best I could to put it all back together. The cup was never the same, but I realized that it really didn't matter. Even though it no longer holds liquid, it is filled to the brim with the sweet memories of years gone by.
And so, I would like you to have it.

''Thank you, Grandma,'' Maggie said after a short silence.
And when, as we hugged good-bye, Maggie invited me over to her new place for tea the next day, I knew that my special teacup was in good hands - and that it was the perfect gift for a granddaughter starting out on her own journey.

-Barbara Rich

This story made me think. I personally like tea. When my tensions are high, my mood is low, when I would like a bit of comfort. But I have never sat down with a friend with a cup of tea. Those are simpler times than now. But I have sat down with a cup of tea and read the blogs of those women who I am beginning to learn to love, just as I do my girlfriends. Maybe we should all try to take the time to have a cup of tea and talk to someone, face to face. Maybe we would all feel a little better if we could have face time instead of screen time.