We registered for West Elm dinnerware for our wedding three years ago. I chose what I believed to be a “classic” stoneware style, to last us years upon years.
I love that set. They are hefty and quality. The bowls fit a big ‘ol heap of cereal that Trent and I often eat on Saturday mornings.
As I unloaded the dishwasher this morning, I couldn’t help but notice the abundance of chips in the bowls and plates. Like almost half of them now have imperfections.
I stopped in my tracks thinking about that. What an analogy.
Theses bowls and plates, they have been used every Wednesday by Trent’s high school Younglife boys. We cook them dinner. Sometimes 7 kids show up, and sometimes there’s 20. We prepare for 20.
I could use plastic plates, plastic forks, plastic cups, but there is something special to me about not using the plastic stuff. The throw away stuff. Real plates say “you are my guest”. Real plates say “you are worth running the dishwasher twice”. Real plates say “this dinner was made with love”. Real plates say “I know the risk of giving you something breakable”.
Maybe I didn’t totally think through the “breakable” part…the first time a kid dropped a bowl of chili on my beautiful light grey weave rug, I about died. Literally had to remove myself from the situation for a few minutes.
But these stained rugs and chipped bowls, they are so symbolic. Not of my “good deeds” but of my evolving heart.
A heart that views poverty differently. A heart that has fallen in love with the black community. A heart God is chipping away at, removing callouses I didn’t even know I had. Softening me.
These bowls, they are a subtle reminder (or not really that subtle…depending on the size of the chip 🙂 ) that God is constantly working. He is constantly trying to talk to me and teach me. To show me that He loves His people -every last one.
That daily reminder is worth every chip.