“Dad, if it is okay with you, I would like to keep this old coffee pot.”
“I don’t care; you can have it,” he replied. It was a November afternoon, and my dad and sister and I were going through some of my grandma’s possessions. We had just come from the hospital where my grandma was in the last stages of cancer. Over sixty years of accumulated family treasures needed to be gone through, and each time we visited Grandma in Indiana, dad, her only child, and whoever traveled with him stopped by her home to continue the long process of going through her home item by item. My sister, Sara, did not want it, and at that time I was not sure why I was drawn to it; I am not a coffee drinker. It was just a white porcelain coated coffee pot with a light blue handle, a glass knob on the lid and black spots where the porcelain had chipped. This type of coffee pot can be found in any local antique shop. The inside showed years of coffee making with hard water stains two and half inches high. When I arrived home, I washed the pot and boiled some water for hot cocoa. It stilled worked! Even though it was chipped and stained, it could still boil water. When the coffee pot is not in use, it sits on my stove as a daily reminder of my grandma. It also is a symbol reminding me of who I am in Christ. Similar to my antique porcelain coffee pot, I am aging. Years of life have made their mark on me. Gray hairs, memory mistakes, and a few more wrinkles are more common than before, but like the coffee pot, I am still useful in spite of my imperfections.
Dear Father, help me to remember that I am still useful to you. Amen.
