Theology in a Tea Cup

It's Tuesday again and time to link up with all those lovely tea parties that whisk us away to a gentler, kinder place, where the pot of tea is always fresh, everyone is on their best behaviour, and all the world's problems can be easily solved over a steaming cup of Darjeeling or Earl Grey.  The only dilemma is whether or not to have a slice of lemon or a drop of milk!

Tea is being served at:

Martha's Favorites
Rose Chintz Cottage & Inspirations
The Plumed Pen
Lady Katherine Tea Parlor
Artful Affirmations

And of course, tea is being served right here.  Today, my inspiration came from a poem that I recently read.  I read it once, and then again, and then had to read it one more time.  Actually, over the last few weeks, I've returned to it again and again, and I am still pondering the meaning.

All day long

She has been arranging our welcome:

Scouring down the house,

Sweeping under beds,

Pulling out the old crocheted counterpanes,

Shining glasses and tableware,

Dusting sideboards and picture frames.

Now she sits in a deep chair

Till we come crunching down the beeches

To the door.

Nice, isn't it?  Sort of creates an instant feeling of coziness and love.  You just know that when you arrive at that door, you are a welcome guest!  But why has it caught my attention so deeply?  Well, it's because of the title.  Here ... I'll give you the whole poem one more time, but this time, I'll include the title.

God


All day long
She has been arranging our welcome:

Scouring down the house,

Sweeping under beds,

Pulling out the old crocheted counterpanes,

Shining glasses and tableware,

Dusting sideboards and picture frames.

Now she sits in a deep chair

Till we come crunching down the beeches

To the door.

Ah ... doesn't that title change the whole poem?  I'm enthralled by the idea.  I actually have no problem with the idea of God being a woman ... because I think God is a spirit being - neither male, nor female.  I also think that since God created both men and women, both genders are reflections of who He/She is.  Anyway, the poem really got me thinking, and this morning I began to wonder about something - if God invited me over for tea, which tea cup would She choose for me to use?

I decided on this one:

The pattern "Memory Lane" is by Royal Albert and consists of delicate blue forget-me-nots circling pristine white china.   I purchased this tea cup and saucer as a gift for my Grandmother for her 80th birthday.   Born in England, my Grandma was a great tea drinker and loved to drink her tea out of a fine bone china tea cup.  I wanted her to have something special to drink her tea from, that would be particularly beautiful.  When she passed away several years ago, the cup and saucer came back to me, and of course they really have become part of "Memory Lane" now because they always remind me of my Grandma.

But why did I chose this particular cup and saucer when I was thinking about that poem?   

Well, contrary to mythological beliefs, all grandmothers are not sweet darling little old ladies who never do anything wrong!  My grandmother had a temper.  She wasn't perfect.  She was human.  And although I'm sure there are many elderly couples who have nothing but goodness and light to say about each other, my grandparents could raise bloody hell, if you'll excuse the expression.  

One day when I was visiting, I happened to notice that my Grandma was using the Memory Lane tea cup with a different saucer.  She explained, with a rather odd look on her face, that the saucer had broken.  Looking at her hands, all gnarled and stiff with arthritis, I assumed she must have accidentally dropped the saucer and I decided immediately that I would get her a replacement.  I mentioned my intent to my Grandad later that day.  He told me Grandma didn't deserve a new saucer.  Apparently they had a big fight and she had thrown the saucer at him and that is how it broke.

I got quiet for a moment when my Grandad told me the story.  Then I looked him in the eye and told him that I was going to go ahead with my plan to replace the saucer.  I said to him, "Grandad, love isn't something we give because it's deserved, it's something we give because it is the very nature of love."  The thing is, I didn't love my grandmother less because she had temper.  I didn't feel she deserved the tea cup and saucer because she turned 80 but didn't deserve a replacement because she deliberately broke it.  I gave the cup as a gift because I loved her.  And love isn't supposed to be conditional.

That's a lesson I learned, not from my grandparents, but from my God.  See, I'd like to claim the idea of unconditional love as one of my own, but truthfully, I only understand a glimpse of it through the grace of God.   When I read that poem, I think of how God so patiently waits for each one of us to come and spend some time with Her, eagerly preparing in advance for our visit, longing for the moment when we arrive.  And She loves us unconditionally, each and every one of us, not because we have done something to earn it, but simply because God is love.

I am glad to say my Grandma eventually came to an understanding of that Divine Love.  After spending the first 86 1/2 years of her life as an atheist, she became a believer in the last 6 months of her life.  And the amazing thing is God didn't love her less when she was an atheist than He did after she became a believer.  He loved her from the moment time began and will love her through all eternity.  Because God is love.

(The poem "God" is one I discovered in a book called Irish Mist written by Father Andrew Greeley.  I'm not sure if he is the author, or if it was written by someone else.)

Marvelous Monday!

It's Marvelous Monday once again!  And although I have a TON of work to do - it's year end for our business and I have a GST filing due today on top of all the rest of the bookkeeping to catch up on, I am still determined to be thankful.  


And I am truly thankful today for this - 

Our pool! We had our first day in the pool for the season on Saturday. It was a wonderful hot sunny day and I was so glad to have the pool in use in May already!


Our pool is nothing fancy - it's just an above ground pool, but I am so thankful for it. I wanted a pool badly for so many reasons but the amazing thing is that once we got it, I soon realized the biggest benefit is one I had never thought of. It turns out that our pool is one of the greatest "communication agents" in our marriage. I know, I know, it sounds strange. But here's the thing - all fall and winter long, we spend each evening either watching tv, reading, on the computer, or rushing off to meetings. None of those things is conducive to conversation. So while hubby and I do take time to chat, it's usually about business or family stuff.


Then comes the summer - and the pool - and suddenly we are spending every evening floating around in the pool where there is no tv, no computer, no books (well, if I'm alone I do confess that I quite often float on my raft with a book in hand but not when my husband is with me), no meetings, just SILENCE and PEACE.  And suddenly we find ourselves talking about all kinds of things like our dreams, and hopes, and inspirations, the things that tickle us, the things that make us sad, the nonsense things that we don't often have time to talk about and the deep things that we don't always take the time to talk about.  And every summer I find myself falling deeper in love with my husband because the more I get to know him, the more I realize what a treasure I have.  


So this Marvelous Monday, I am truly thankful for our pool and that summer is here again!


It turns out that I'm not as original as I thought I was! Apparently someone else has come up with the idea of Marvelous Monday before me. I thought it was an awfully good idea and I guess too good for only me to have thought of it.  :D  So here's a link to Marvelous Monday at Three Butterflies and a Monkey, someone I don't know yet but hope to get to know - since she's obviously quite brilliant for sharing my Marvelous Monday idea!  :D

Fairy Godmothers of the World Unite!

I have a confession to make, I really hate Cinderella.  I don't like the story line or the character.  As a child, it annoyed me that poor little Cinderella was such a goody-two-shoes but never had the gumption to get herself out of what was clearly an untenable situation.  I always suspected she was a whiny little brat who was seriously lacking in the determination department and thus I had a hard time scraping together too much compassion for her.  Why did she put up with her evil step-sisters?  Caught in a similar situation, I imagined that I would find some insidious means of terrorizing the bullies so they would leave me alone.  What can I say ... I have a cruel and vengeful side and have never taken well to being victimized, even at a young age.

(And if you don't believe me, ask my Mum.  She loves retelling the story of Choppy, our pet Rooster, who had the audacity to peck my knee when I was a toddler.  Let's just say Choppy was missing a few tail feathers by the time I was done with him.) 

The story, however, does have some redeeming elements.  The mice, for example, were always main characters in my mind.  Forget Prince Charming, who looked to me like he had spent a suspicious amount of time grooming his hair into that perfect pompadour, in my opinion the mice were the real heroes of the story.  I delighted in the mice.  And if I was going to identify with anyone in the story?  I have to say that I always loved the Fairy Godmother.  Now here was a character who was making things happen!   She had power!  She had wisdom!  She had a magic wand!  Sparkling glitter followed her every move!  This was my kind of woman!

The Disney version of the Fairy Godmother has never done too much for me.  I mean, with all that power, why on earth did she look so frumpy?  Given her powers, I would definitely have used that wand to transform myself into a svelte and stunning beauty and find myself some better clothes.  I've always leaned towards other versions of the story where the FGM is a gorgeous blonde, wearing a diaphanous gown, preferably with a nice set of iridescent wings.   Or like Julie Andrew's version of the Blue Fairy in Pinocchio, all satiny and blue, with her hair swept back in a sophisticated chignon.




(What's up with the blue, by the way?  Anyone know why FGMs, even in the case of Disney's chubby old lady character, all seem to wear blue?  Is this a subtle Madonna reference?)


So, with my fascination for FGM's, it should not surprise you that I was quite thrilled 8 years ago when my brother and his wife asked me to be the godmother for my newly born niece.  I was excited!  But I was also a little nervous.  I mean, the thing is, I'm not even Catholic!  And I've never had a godmother myself, so I have no role models, no idea what the godmother is supposed to do, how they're supposed to act, what their responsibilities are!

As a result, in finding my way through the godmother/goddaughter journey, rather than relying on religious examples, I've leaned heavily on the extraordinarily academic source of the FGM's found in many fairy tales.  Granted I don't wander around wearing long blue gowns, with a tin-foil wrapped paper towel tube in hand (not that I haven't considered this, of course), but I do try to use my "godmother" role as a way to make my goddaughter's life a little bit easier, and hope in the future, as she grows older, to have the opportunity to teach her to make her own happy endings.

While it may sound great to have a "Prince Charming" swoop down and rescue you from your ashy existence, I've learned throughout the years, that I'd much rather have a man who is my equal partner, standing by my side, not reaching down to my "lowly state."  My husband does not complete me - he compliments me in my personal journey towards completion.  My husband doesn't kiss me so I will come alive - he kisses because I am already alive, and vibrant, and mistress of my own destiny.  I'm not waiting around for some lame glass slipper to tell me what I already know - I am a princess in my own right, thank-you very much.  I happen to think that my husband is the most wonderful man in the world, but only Jesus saves.

Today my goddaughter had her First Communion.   Here she is, waiting with the rest of her class before formally entering the church.

Isn't she beautiful?  And I didn't need to wave any magic wand to help her.  All she needs is a few cute mice and a pumpkin, and I bet she will find her own happy ever after.