Teapots

When I was a little girl, I had a tea set that I adored.

What I loved most about it was that it wasn’t the plastic toy kind.

It was real. White porcelain.

My favorite piece was the teapot.

It was so elegant with its spout shaped like a swan’s neck.

Smooth with pink flowers painted on it.

It was delicate.

But I, at age 8, was very remiss.

Within a year, the teacups were cracked, and some saucers were lost.

And the teapot?

Well, the teapot was chipped and scratched.

The spout I so admired had pieces broken off it.

I had used it so much and handled it so carelessly that its quality had deteriorated.

I feel like a teapot sometimes.

Full of warm yummy goodness and always ready to pour.

And for the past few weeks, I’ve been tipped over quite a bit.

Pouring for those who need a taste of currency.

Filling mugs with support for the emotionally deficient.

Topping off tumblers for the parched, the thirsty, and anyone who happens to have an empty cup.

Steadily flowing.

Always tilted.

But this teapot is just about empty.

Her handle is brittle.

Her spout is about to fall off.

Yet cups continue to request refreshment.

Still, palms pat the bottom of the teapot, hoping drops will dance out.

It can get weary doing for others.

It can get weary caring for others.

It can get weary being there for others.

It can.

It will.

Especially if you yourself are not being replenished.

But I’m learning that it is necessary to retreat.

Jesus did it often.

After healing the sick feeding the hungry, and speaking to the spiritually starved, He’d go off alone to be with the ultimate source, God.

The Lord never stopped His care for His people.

But He knew when He had to get away.

 It is OK to halt the flow for a spell.

Take it from a teapot.

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