co·balt
[koh-bawlt] Show IPA
noun
a silver-white metallic element with a faint pinkish tinge, occurring in compounds whose silicates afford important blue coloring substances for ceramics. Symbol: Co; atomic weight: 58.933; atomic number: 27; specific gravity: 8.9 at 20°C.
Alrighty then, now that that is clear.
I've decided these days ~ when I decorate for a holiday or season ~ to use what I have on hand as much as possible. I have a treasure trove of goodies in my stash from eras gone by. Today as I was pondering how to decorate for the 4th of July, I remembered Mom's old cobalt blue vase. It has been in a little cabinet in the "mud room" (for lack of better description) for quite some time. Before that it sat on a wooden window valance in Mom's living room ~ forever and ever ~ as long as I can recall. It was something she had, I'm supposing, when she started house keeping. I inherited it, like several things she had a fondness for. A fondness it had to be. Why else would someone keep a chipped bud vase? But she did. It wasn't damaged beyond use ~ just noticably chipped and damaged beyond what one would consider "beautiful", worthy only of the trash pile in someone else's eyes. But not hers. She lovingly sat it in a place of "honor", high above little hands ~ probably the same little hands that chipped it in the first place.
It made me start to think. That little bud vase, in the scope of things, is really nothing at all. It's damaged. I could never sell it (not that I would) because it is not perfect. It could be the rarest of vases, but worthless to the human consumer simply because it is damaged goods. I, like the chipped vessel, am damaged. Chips, dents, dings, broken pieces and parts of my life, unworthy to the average human consumer. And . . . just like the cobalt blue vase, Someone took care to put me in a safe place ~ out of the reach of clumsy hands and circumstances. I too, was treasured, broken as I were. I could still be used for the very thing He intended for me to be used for. I'll not know what all those things are until I look back one day and see the things that have been trusted to me. Things stored in my care, placed in my heart. I just know ~ like the blue vase ~ I am being used for something.
Thank you, Barb. I just love this thought.As I look at all my chipped, cracked garage sale finds I will think of this and how loved we are. And, I have to tell you that cobalt has a special place in my heart too. My mom, collected it when we were little. After a while, her tastes changed and she has gotten rid of most of it, but whenever I see it, I always, always, think of her.
ReplyDeleteLove you!