Lord I never asked to be a cracked cup.

We have all admired teacups, the fine china luster, the artistry, and

their intricate designs.  Have you

ever thought about what happens to the one's that are

not quite so perfect?

I know a favorite of mine has a crack on the inside corner.  Most the

crack is hidden from the eyes, unless

someone was looking for it.  It's rose design, a little

faded from the years of service.  If it were to be bought or sold for

antique value, it wouldn't bringmuch because of its imperfection.  Yet,

the memories of secrets shared over tea with this cup are priceless. 

This simple cup, flawed as it may be, has a message

uniquely its own.  Beauty is not dependent on what the

eye can see; it's a matter of the heart.  What is 

stored in a treasure in the cupboard of the heart can never be bought or

sold for any price.

I went to a doctor one time that told me I was not whole.  Infact, I was

broken.  I had to learn to live with missing parts that could never be

added.  When God created me, he left out the most important part of my

reproductive system, my ovaries.  I remember how I felt

that day.  Is there no hope for a normal life I would

ask myself?  I would cry.  No one will ever understand

my pain.  My cracks were secret, hidden deep inside,

except for the keloid scar on my neck.  A cracked

teacup that best describes what I am.

I began to remember the lesson of the teacup.  God I said, "I never asked

to be a cracked cup.  Please tell me why?"  I never thought that taking

care of a diseased thyroid would result in such an ugly scar. Even after

three plastic surgeries.  I wondered would

any man ever love me, the imperfect vessel that I am?

"Ok God, I am a cracked cup now what?"

God never did tell me why.  He promised instead His unfailing love and His

grace, which the Bible says is sufficient.  Some how, those promises

didn't seem like enough to bring understanding to my grieving heart.  I

ached for the children I would never have and a body,

which at least to me, would never look normal. 

Healing like after healing line seemed to lack power.

It made me cry out all the louder.  "Lord, Father,

Almighty in heaven where is Your power?"

Remember me, I never asked to be a cracked cup.     Faithful to his word

the Son of Righteousness arose with healing in His wings.  A miracle you

ask, I think so.

I am learning to come into His presence to hear His

heart and allow Him to draw me into that solitary

place with Him.  There he speaks comfortable to me the

words of life that sustain my soul.  You are darling,

my beautiful one.  You are my beloved.  My banner over

you is love.  The word of God to me, which is as ointment poured on to my

hurting heart.

Sometimes, when I  look in the mirror I still see a cracked cup.  When I

ask the Father what He sees, He

whispers in my ear, "I see Jesus."

The p.s. to this story, in this world and in our cupboards is, there are

many cracked cups. Some have been cracked by their own hand, some because

of circumstances and some it was the way they were created.  So when you

choose your next teacup and notice a crack hold it gently to the Father

and ask Him what He sees.

by Pam Wickenhauser-Please visit Hometips & More at https://www.angelfire.com/wa/hometips

(resource box must be included in article for reprint permission)