Emilie Barnes Quote
HEART OF TEA DEVOTIONrc t c//'VI/~ L tLP /'V to/ aMy dear, ifyou couldgive me a cup of tea to clear my muddle of a head I should better understand your affairs.CHARLES DICKENSIf teacups could talk, my house would be full of conversation ... because my house is full of teacups. My collection of china cups-begun many years ago, when I set up housekeeping as a child bride-has long since outgrown its home in the glass-front armoire and spread out to occupy side tables and shelves and hooks in the kitchen or find safe harbor in the dining-room hutch.Some of these cups I inherited from women I love-my mother and my aunties. Some are gifts from my husband, Bob, or from my children or from special friends. A few are delightful finds from elegant boutiques or dusty antique shops.One cup bears telltale cracks and scars; it was the only one I could salvage when a shelf slipped and 14 cups fell and shattered.Three other cups stand out for their intense color-my aunt was always attracted to that kind of dramatic decoration.Yet another cup, a gift, is of a style I've never much cared for, but now it makes me smile as I remember the houseguest who rescued it from a dark corner of the armoire because it looked lonely.Each one of my teacups has a history, and each one is precious to me. I have gladly shared them with guests and told their stories to many people.Recently, however, I have been more inclined to listen.I've been wondering what all those cups, with their history and long experience, are trying to say to me.What I hear from them, over and over, is an invitation-one I want to extend to you: When did you last have a tea party? When was the last time you enjoyed a cup of tea with someone you care about? Isn't it time you did it again?
HEART OF TEA DEVOTIONrc t c//'VI/~ L tLP /'V to/ aMy dear, ifyou couldgive me a cup of tea to clear my muddle of a head I should better understand your affairs.CHARLES DICKENSIf teacups could talk, my house would be full of conversation ... because my house is full of teacups. My collection of china cups-begun many years ago, when I set up housekeeping as a child bride-has long since outgrown its home in the glass-front armoire and spread out to occupy side tables and shelves and hooks in the kitchen or find safe harbor in the dining-room hutch.Some of these cups I inherited from women I love-my mother and my aunties. Some are gifts from my husband, Bob, or from my children or from special friends. A few are delightful finds from elegant boutiques or dusty antique shops.One cup bears telltale cracks and scars; it was the only one I could salvage when a shelf slipped and 14 cups fell and shattered.Three other cups stand out for their intense color-my aunt was always attracted to that kind of dramatic decoration.Yet another cup, a gift, is of a style I've never much cared for, but now it makes me smile as I remember the houseguest who rescued it from a dark corner of the armoire because it looked lonely.Each one of my teacups has a history, and each one is precious to me. I have gladly shared them with guests and told their stories to many people.Recently, however, I have been more inclined to listen.I've been wondering what all those cups, with their history and long experience, are trying to say to me.What I hear from them, over and over, is an invitation-one I want to extend to you: When did you last have a tea party? When was the last time you enjoyed a cup of tea with someone you care about? Isn't it time you did it again?