For What It’s Worth

Today, I'm sharing with you a post that is totally off the gluten free topic. It's a post with a note I wrote one morning this past spring. I put it aside, not really sure what to do with it. I was really just reflecting that morning on things of the heart. This morning I came across the photo in this note, and I felt another heart pang. This note's about my mom. Her birthday, as well as my mom and dad's anniversary, which were on July 3rd. I've felt this date much more intensely this year. Today when I came across this photo, it didn't seem right to not bring the note out once again. So I share it with you … for what it's worth. The memories mean so much to me. 

My Mom’s Tea Cup

This morning I went to the cupboard for my usual tea cup. It’s flower-y, thermal insulated, and has a rubber spill-proof (an adult version of the sippy cup) lid. I love it. It keeps my hot tea hot when I fail to drink it right away. This way I only have to reheat the tea two or three times during my morning, instead of five or six. Anyway, this morning when I went to the cupboard, I saw my mom’s favorite tea cup sitting there. My mom’s tea cup is in my cupboard not because she lives with me, or because she’s visiting, but because she passed away many years ago. I acquired her cup just recently when my father also passed away. Until then it was sitting in his cupboard.

Somehow it seemed right to pull it out today. When I received it from Daddy, I never really thought I would use it. But I knew I wanted it to have a place in my kitchen so I could see it and think of Mom. This morning when I reached for my cup, I found myself picking up Mom’s instead. You see, the sun is shining today and declaring springtime has arrived. Mom always loved spring.  She loved waiting for and watching the new buds make themselves present in the warming of the springtime sun. I’m not sure anything brought her more joy, except for her children and grandchildren, than seeing flowers blooming. She could tell you the botanical names for almost all the common flowers, and many of the not so common ones. She was definitely not a botanist … she just LOVED her flowers. She would have had dozens of gardens of flowers if her health had permitted. 

So what does this have to do with her tea cup? Though you cannot read all of the caption along the bottom of the cup, it’s probably as true to my mom’s heart as it could get. It reads, “A garden is the friendliest sort of place.” Mom’s garden was where no matter what was going on in her life, her health, her world, all was right with the world when she was in her garden. And this is the kind of joy and love she spread to others. She was such a positive person. She had a life afflicted, more like plagued, with health ailments that would have brought a sane person to insanity. But not my mom. She had a smile that could send rays of sunshine on a garden that would make the flowers bloom in the dead of a Minnesota winter. 

And so when the sun came out from behind the clouds this morning, shining on each droplet of dew and making them glisten like glitter, and the blue birds were swiftly flitting from their little bird houses to the remnants of last years remaining stalks with the dried seeds, ready to fall and germinate life anew, and the daffodils were waving there buttercup yellow heads in the gentle morning breeze, I had to pull out my mom’s cup from the cupboard. I had to fill it with warm tea, embrace the handle and hold the cup to my lips, and give the springtime morning a toast of welcome … from my mom. 

I miss you mom. I hope you’re enjoying a bountiful garden where you are now!