This morning I made coffee to bring to work. I was enjoying my coffee in my travel mug (pictured above) while talking with Tom.
He looked at me and asked, “Do you know how old that cup is?”
“No.” I replied not really interested in the age of my cup.
“I used that cup back in New York." (This makes it over 15 years old.) "Don’t you think it’s time you get a new travel mug?”
“Why? I like this one.” I said a little defensive of my mug.
“They have really nice ones that come in all sizes and it would look so much better than that one.”
“Really? What are you trying to say? It works fine and it’s the right size for my morning coffee.” I continued my defense. “Are you saying that I should toss it aside simply because it’s old? Should I replace it with something new because somehow the newer thing would be better?”
My poor husband looked at me and laughed. He knew I was talking about more than just the mug. He joined me by saying, “Besides it’s red, white and blue and still keeps coffee hot.” We did continue a bit on this track.
It got me thinking. Some of my favorite things are old. I love old movies, old books and old shoes. Maybe that’s because I’m old. When did being old become a bad thing? There is nothing more fascinating to me then having a conversation with a much older person and hearing stories about their lives.
My mom is 82 years old and now has Alzheimer’s. I’m grateful for the times I prodded her for stories about when she and my dad meet. If I didn’t listen to those stories when she wanted to tell me, it would have been too late.
In my church experience, I’ve listened to people who are older than me tell stories of the past. Interesting stories about how they saw God move. I’ve watched as God still used them to minister to those around them. The bible is filled with stories of God using men and women when they were much older. Nothing can beat experience. This gives me hope for my future. It means that the Lord will continue to use me as long as I’m willing to serve Him.
An old mug is in the eye of the beholder.
© Nadine Z. 2007