On Granny's Yellow Cups

My grandmother (we called her Granny) passed away back in May. My grandfather died back in 2001, so she was the only grandparent left on my father's side of the family. As a result, upon her death, the family began to discuss what we were going to do with their possessions (thank God for a close extended family who didn't fight over these issues at all -- people can be so greedy!).

After my parents and aunts and uncles divided any items which were sentimental to them, they allowed all of the grandchildren to go through what was left and see if there were any particular objects which we wanted. I ended up with several things from my grandparents' house, including one of my Papa's WWII bayonets, a couple of his old wood-working tools, and their dining room table and chairs.

My favorite thing I got from my Granny's house, though, is a set of yellow cups.

These cups are nothing special. In fact, they are quite plain. They are small, little plastic cups that may hold 10-12 oz. of fluid. They're really old, and they are all faded and discolored. You can even detect a slight hint of the smell of my Granny's house when you pull one out (although, sadly enough, the smell has begun to fade away). They are not expensive, and honestly, are probably very cheap. Yet, despite the ordinary nature of these cups, I love them.

I love them not because of what they are but because of what they represent. Whenever I drink from those cups, I go back to memories of my childhood. I think of playing wiffle ball in their back yard, where Granny would toss the ball to us. I remember of eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (with crunchy peanut butter). I think of putting together puzzles on the bedroom floor. I can still hear Papa's voice saying, "You're gonna itch, now," whenever we would roll in the grass. And during all of those situations, we drank from those yellow cups.

My mind then moves forward a few years to when I was a teenager. I remember sitting in the living room reading the newspaper clippings that Granny saved for me. I think about visiting for Mother's Day, eating apple cake and giving Granny flowers. I remember Papa putting on his old semi-pro baseball uniform and taking a picture with me in my all-star jersey. And during all those times, we drank from those yellow cups.

As I think about high school and college, I remember gathering at their house after Papa died. I remember weeping with the family there. I think about sitting in the living room with Granny as she began to grow old and feeble. I can still hear her sweet voice saying, "Now what did you say?" as she struggled to hear us. Then I remember sitting in the house after she died, reminiscing like I am doing now. And as the family gathered for a meal at her house during that time, I drank from one of those yellow cups.

Now, as I drink from those cups, I am reminded of Granny and Papa and their love. They loved us unconditionally. When we ran around the house and disobeyed them, even though I can still hear Papa's scolding voice, I knew they loved me. Whenever I had an event, game, or performance, they were always there. Although I didn't see them every day, I knew they loved me more than I'd ever know. And I was just one of their many grandchildren. Nevertheless, I was special.

And then I am reminded of God's love for us. He loves us with a bigger love than even my grandparent's had. When we run around this earth and disobey him, although it hurts him, he still loves us. Whenever we experience life's joys and life's difficult times, God is with us in all our circumstances. Although we can't see him physically, we can be assured that his love for us never fails. Even though we are just individuals among billions of people, God still loves each one of us. We are special in his eyes.

Thank you, God, for Granny and Papa. Thank you for their love. Thank you for your love for us.

And thank you for some simple yellow cups which remind me of all of this.