BROKEN TEACUPS.

When Jessie and I were up in Rocky Canyon, we found these tiny pieces of what I imagine was once a teacup. We stumbled upon them in the tall, dry grass on a hillside we were investigating.  Years of exposure to the elements had caused the delicate porcelain pieces to sink into the dirt so they were barely noticeable. When I stopped to examine the nearly hidden treasure and began wiping the dirt from them, their tiny flowers appeared!  I don't know how this once delicate piece of tableware came to meet its demise or how it ever ended up on that hillside but I am so intrigued by the thought that somewhere, there is a story. These pieces once comprised an entire teacup that might have belonged to someone who simply adored it.  She might have have drank her morning coffee from it every morning.  Or perhaps it sat upon a shelf--reserved for special occasions or afternoon tea with the ladies.  Perhaps it belonged to a set.  A set that was a wedding gift from a beloved aunt.  I just love the thought that this simple cup had a story before I came along and kicked it out of the dirt.  And it reminds me that we all have stories, just waiting to be kicked out of the dirt.  Today, while coming out of the grocery story, a woman asked me for a ride.  She had a cart full of groceries and she was shivering in the cool of the morning.  My instinct was to say no and hurry toward my truck without making further eye contact.  But for some reason, I said yes.  She loaded up my entire backseat with groceries and I drove her home.  As we made small talk she asked me, "Are you some kind of nurse?"  I laughed at the absurdity of her assumption!  However, later I was thinking about what could have made her think I was a nurse.  And I began thinking about her story.  What did her flowers, hidden beneath layers of time and soil, look like?  What elements had life exposed her to that left her asking a random stranger for a ride home?  Who had shown her such unkindness that it left her shattered and unrecognizable?  Who, in her life, was neglecting to stop, help her up, admire and hold her?  I may never know the real stories of either of my broken teacups but as I fall asleep tonight, I'll know that in both cases, I stopped, looked . . . and cared.  

    

    

NOW PRACTICING RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS.

=)