Today is May 26, 2014. Memorial Day. I’m not at work. Instead, I’m sitting at my desk, in a yellow room, in our first house, peering out a window with the blinds pulled up about 14 inches — just enough for the orange cat I’ve come to love more than I ever thought I could to sit on the sill. I’m drinking warm coffee from a pink mug emblazoned with the moniker “Crazy Cat Lady.”
I love this mug. I love it because it is the perfect size to drink from so that my coffee doesn’t get cold before I finish it (and then I can fill it up again). I love it because it is a semi-ironic description of someone I never thought I’d be, but have certainly become. But most of all, I love it because it was given to me by someone I hadn’t known very long, simply because she saw it and thought of me.
She probably didn’t know it, but she gave it to me at a time when I needed to feel significant. Loved. And that gift did exactly that. “You matter,” it says.
I don’t really know what the point of this post is, other than just to say, this morning, I am content. It is hardly ever the case, but right now, in this moment, I have it. I believe that I have all I will ever need.
It’s always true. I always have all that I will ever need, because the God of all creation loves me personally and deeply and cares about my individual thoughts and feelings. And he is sovereign. But I don’t usually believe all that, all at once.
So I just want to put a stamp on this day — this morning. May 26, 2014. Drinking from my “you matter” coffee mug, listening to the dishwasher run, knowing I am loved by a sweet husband who right now is out loving people and being charming while selling the best peaches on earth, watching my cat peer out the window as if he is the sentinel outside a castle who decides whether or not to let the drawbridge down, writing in peace.
Annnnd the dog next door just started barking as if the sky is falling and he’s the only one who can warn us. More coffee, please.
Oh, and by the way, if no one has told you today -- you matter.