Signs in A Coffee Cup

It was just a mug. But it felt like a memory. Maybe that’s why, after all this time it remained one of my favorites.

The first one got broken last year. Surprisingly, I didn’t really react. “It’s just a thing,” I said, as I put the sharp fragments in the trash. And I meant it. It felt timely and symbolic of everything I believed and was trying to do. Releasing the old, simplifying.

This one seemed sadder though. Maybe because it felt like it had been made for me, the smooth, not quite round shape that fit perfectly in my tangled hands, the weight of it so precisely tailored to my ideal cup of morning coffee, a ritual that tasted like new beginnings . Maybe because it was the last tangible recollection of those road trips with my daughters and the adventures in Seattle that still rang freedom in my ears. But now the cracks that had wrapped their way around the inside like wild vines had finally eroded the outside. There it was. One long, determined fracture. Seeping through the shiny ceramic finish like the tea I was pouring into it.

I know they’re just mugs. But like most of those small, seemingly insignificant things that we hold tightly to, through spring cleanings, moves, and the threat of yard sales, they tell our stories and hold our secrets. Those souvenirs we purchase become the words of the pages written on our heart from a cherished chapter. A moment in time. Back when.

And I wondered tonight, as I set the mug aside, feeling foolish for putting any meaning to this, if it was a sign. Perhaps it was in the nuance of a broken coffee cup that I chose to see a symbol, One I needed to see. That as I put some of the past aside, broken and stained, it didn’t diminish its beauty or meaning. And as I dare now to live my best, biggest life, share my talent and give my stories a voice, I bring with me all my cracks, brokenness, beauty and meaning. Yes, this was a reminder of my purpose and that life is coming together, making way for the new and unexpected.

As the memories and emotions gently washed over me, I felt a sense of repose. And I thanked the Universe for never giving up on me.