#2 TATWTD "Six"

Six.

Six is the number of my late mother’s crystal wine goblets in my possession. That is, six was the number until this past Tuesday when I pulled them from their safe shelf and put them in a safe place on the marble countertop, near the kitchen sink. I would use them that evening when friends would come to our apartment for dessert.

Oh darn! What’s that?” I wondered as I pulled cinnamon rolls from the oven mid-morning, Tuesday. “Ah, Silly me.” I baked some of the rolls in a spring pan and the marvelous cinnamon-laced sugar slipped the pan’s seam, bubbled and burned onto the oven racks and floor. “Best I clean that up now, before using the oven again,” I thought.

I removed two large racks, placed them in the wide sink and after cleaning the oven itself, assaulted the racks with Watkin’s stainless-steel scrubbiest (I love these things!). I returned cleaned racks to the oven but not before I rotated the first to rinse it, and the edge of rack met the edge of a safely placed crystal goblet, sending it to the marble countertop, shattering and scattering crystal shards. (See the photo accompanying this post)

I watched the goblet fall, but when my swiftly extended hand proved not fast enough to stop the event, when glass shards stopped wobbling, and I knew a new cleanup task faced me, my first thought was: This is a metaphor.

I wasn’t sure “a metaphor representing what,” only that a symbol sought to be found and now, two days later, this settled in my mind: Brokenness in a Time of Celebration.

Really, from the time we pack away skeletons and witches in October, burp large after turkey and cranberries in November, then plunge into frantic fun, Christ-centered celebrations, or a concentration of both in December, and decide how to ring in a January New Year, we like the idea of six goblets standing ready to be lifted to happy lips. We want the party we planned. We want all members present and participating.

But  . . . brokenness attends celebrations. People with hurting hearts also mark off the days of October, November, December, and January. My goblets, six up and one fallen, remain in my mind as a reminder to remember reality, to reach out.

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