I have been wanting to share this with everyone but have not had time. This is a story that I relate to everyone in our home on our lives. This is the teacup that we had given to Danielle as her reminder of God in her life. We also have our teacups to remind us.
The story begins in a little gift shop, a charming establishment crammed full of delightful discoveries. A mother had gone there to find a special gift for her daughter with excited oohs and ahs, she picked up books and figurines, intent on finding just the perfect piece. Suddenly, glancing into the corner of an antique armoire, the mother spies a prize. "Oh, look!" she exclaims to herself. Carefully she reaches over to pick up a delicate teacup. A shaft of sunlight from the window shines through the translucent china, illuminating the delicate design. "Oh, isn't it pretty. " the mother sighs. "I would have to say this is the prettiest cup I've ever seen." She gazed at the beautiful little cup, already imagining her daughter's face when she opens her special gift. And at that moment something remarkable happens; with a voice as clear and sweet as the painted nose gay on the saucer, that teacup begins to talk. " I thank you for the compliment," the cup begins, "but you know, I haven't always been like this. " The mother doesn't seem surprised at all to be addressed by a teacup. Instead, she asks with interest. "Whatever are you talking about?" "Well, " says the teacup, "I wasn't always beautiful. In fact, I started out as an ugly, soggy lump of clay. But one day a man with dirty, wet hands started slinging me around, pounding me on the worktable, knocking the breath out of me. I didn't like this procedure one little bit. It hurt, and it made me angry. "Stop!" I cried. "but the man with the wet hands simply said, "Not yet!" "Finally the pounding stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought my ordeal was over. But it had just begun. The next thing I knew, I was being stuffed into a mold-packed in so tightly I couldn't see straight. " 'Stop! Stop!' "I cried until I was squeezed too tight to utter a sound. Parts of me oozed out of the mold, and he scraped those away. "If I could have talked, I would have screamed. "But the man seemed to know what I was thinking. He just looked down with a patient expression on his face and told me, " 'Not yet.' " finally, the pressing and the scraping stopped. But the next experience was far worse. I was plunged into the dark, and then the temperature began to rise. I still couldn't talk, but inside I was yelling. 'get me out of here!' "And strangely, through those thick furnace walls, I seemed to hear someone say, 'Not yet.' "Just when I was sure I was going to be completely incinerated, the oven began to cool. Eventually the man took me out of the furnace and released me from the confining mold. I relaxed. I even looked around and enjoyed my new form. I was firmer. I had shape. This was better "But then came the short lady in the smock. She pulled out tiny brushes and began to daub paint all over me. The fumes made me feel sick, and the brush tickled. " 'I don't like that.' " I cried. " 'I've had enough. Please stop.' " 'Not yet!' said the short lady with a smile. "Finally she finished. She picked up her brushes and moved on. But just when I thought I was finally free, the first man picked me up again and put me back into that awful furnace. This time was worse than before because I wasn't protected by the mold. "Again and again I screamed, 'Stop!' "And each time the man answered through the door of the furnace, 'Not yet!' "Finally the oven cooled once more, and the man came to open the door. By that time I was almost done in. I barely noticed when I was picked up and put down and packed in a box and jounced and jolted some more. When I finally came to, a pretty lady was picking me up out of my box and placing me on this shelf, next to this mirror. "And when I looked at myself in the mirror, I was amazed. Not longer was I ugly, soggy, and dirty. I was shiny and clean. And I was beautiful-unbelievably beautiful. "Could this be me?" I cried for joy. "It was then, " said the teacup, "that I realized there was a purpose in all that pain. You see, it took all that suffering to make me truly beautiful."
It is to remind us that through all of the suffering and hard times it is only working to make us more beautiful. May this story bless you as it has me.
