My mother has this cool collection of teapots. A lot of them came from my dad. Some of them are rather elegant and some are simple or even silly – like the one that has a clown’s face. There are unique ones, like the one that is in the shape of a country cottage, complete with an operational chimney. My dad would occasionally buy a cigar and blow smoke into the spout, so we could watch the cigar smoke come out of the chimney.
We adult kids love those teapots. Our dad (as many of you know) died young, so we are eager for bits and pieces of who he was and anything he touched or did. The teapots are insights into how he responded to life. Maybe his love language was gifts. Maybe he was taught that’s what you do for your loved ones. I expect the main reason we love them is mostly a combination of the love we feel knowing our dad gifted our mother with them and that they are a part of our mom and her history.
The thing about these beloved teapots is she usually received one when daddy had let her down somehow. When she first told me that, I was a little unsettled, disappointed, discouraged; but I came to realize that though some of them were given when he had messed up – as we all do – they were still given in love. Love for our mom. Love for his family. The knowledge of him being human and fallible was made endearing by the fact that he could say “I’m sorry” in his own way. With teapots.
Being one of the younger kids, I don’t remember seeing him blow the smoke out of the cottage chimney or seeing my mother’s response as she received her teapots, but I cherish my siblings and mother’s memories of these things. So, while our mom may have some mixed feelings over why she received some of those teapots, she never threw them any of them away; she still cherishes the love that was once hers.
Even the simplest of gifts can engender the greatest kind of love: forgiveness.
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