Goblets, Coffee Mugs and Chinaware

Do you find that drinking out of a unique cup makes whatever you're drinking taste better?
I may be riding this train of thought alone but it is something I've believed ever since I can recall.

As a small child I would beg my mom to let me drink out of the "fancy" teacups she had collected and aligned beautifully on the top shelf in the kitchen. Once I was old enough to climb on the counter and reach the teacups I didn't bother to ask, I just went for it. Oh how wonderful apple juice tasted as it flowed, elegantly I might add, from the china my great grandmother sipped her tea from.

I am convinced if you have a snazzy cup/mug/glass to drink from then you enjoy whatever you are swallowing more. I have always liked drinking from strange (but tasteful) glassware. Although I did go through a "cat phase" as a wee kiddo where I only wanted to drink from bowls...that is another story (and certainly not a tasteful one).
My delight in collecting glassware from antique stores, garage sales, and thrift shops has only increased...possibly to the woe of my husband... 
What has prompted my ranting on drinking vessels you may wonder? Well I'd like to think it is a small illustration of how the little things in life can help keep you sane and it is those little things that make up who you are.

As of late I feel like my mind has been a bull in a china shop. The past three weeks it has not stopped clamoring with new ideas, learning the skills of a new job, and taking deep looks at life. Even when I sleep it doesn't settle. I have the most bizarre dreams each night, without fail. Bull in a china shop-crashing around, never stopping to rest, fascinating content but not without porcelain casualties.


I love my new job and know that this is what I am supposed to be doing. I now work in a field where it is my job to hear people's stories, care for them, and help them work through their struggles. In such a field as Social Work one quickly realizes that you must properly care for oneself or else you cannot genuinely care for others (I believe this concept is true beyond the realm of social work). You cannot hear traumatizing stories of people's lives and carry them as your own. The weight is too much to try and carry. The other extreme is what I'd call "stonewall listening". Someone shares with you the struggles of their soul and the horror that was their past and you proceed to block it with emotionlessness or calloused remarks.

Oh finding a beautiful balance, isn't that always the trick in life? Well the fact is sometimes finding that symmetry is about as easy as walking on a balance beam wearing one high heel and one steel-toed boot.

I know I tend to error on the side of trying to carry other people's problems. It has not been a helpful trait throughout the years. But I am learning to balance, I have to learn or I will fall hard, and at time I have. But continually falling hard is not something I want to do. I am meeting with ten families on a weekly basis. Some of them have seen the darkest times a life could handle. Already in the past week I have heard stories that I could write whole books on, the depth, the sorrow, the complexity, the pain-only something a raw hard life could make up. Part of my job is to listen, but taking on other people's problems is not. Compassion is part of my fiber and I hope to exude it freely. In order to do so I must not get dragged down into other people's plight but be a person in their journey that helps them stand strong and move forward.

 

This starts by examining my own heart. I must make sure I take care of myself, that I sleep, laugh, pursue my passions and pray hard. This is a common revelation I have but find it, at times, hard to sustain. This is where good teamwork comes in. Sean has been an incredible encouragement to me. The past week we have spent more time in our newly converted garage-to-studio, painting. We've set out on more daring culinary endeavors in our kitchen (we have fresh Gnocchi coming out our ears), and we are taking the time to walk or run to the beach and enjoy the setting of the sun. Our dear friends and family have also been an amazing sounding board for wisdom and joviality. We've hit the country rodeo scene in Ellensburg (thank you Alex and Marie for opening our eyes to a whole new world), had movie nights, gardened, made late night trips to the grocery store, stayed overnight at the farm, made brunch with new friends, galavanted around Seattle trying new restaurants, and basked in fervent laughter.

Life is difficult, there is no denying that. But even more than that, life is beautiful. I am learning so much for those who have seen more than I could imagine. I am developing a new sense of what hardship is and what care looks like. As time continues to give me lemons, no matter how tart or sweet, I plan on taking the time to make and pour myself a crisp glass of lemonade into one of my 25 cent glasses (circa 1962) from Treasures Thrift Shop and ruminate on life's mysteries.