Posted by: thewoobdog | April 17, 2007

Mumfuzzled

Wow.  It has officially been 40 days since I joined Xanga.  40 days since my first uninspired blog.  And here I am, stuffy-headed, breathing through my mouth and feeling like a muzzy-headed goob, winging it because I felt I needed the cathartic release of blogging yet having no idea what to say.  It is really annoying that my stopped up (yet, oddly, still running) nose seems to have produced an equally obnoxious stuffiness in my brain (with approximately the same amount of positive effect – ie, none).  My lips feel too big, too, which isn’t helping.  And I burned my thumb cooking a roast in a stubbornly uncooperative oven last night, and the blister from said burn is in just the right spot to connect with the space bar between every word.

I must say, the cup of tea I am drinking makes me feel better just by being there, on my desk, gently sending up little wisps of steam.  It is nice to be drinking it out of a nice heavy mug, too – somehow a paper cup doesn’t have the same weight.  Well, duh.  I mean, a real mug has a sense of solidity.  This particular mug is kind of normal-sized – not one of these gargantuan new mugs, just a nice, heavy, cream-colored mug with the words ‘call your mother’ written simply on one side.

It really is a mug, not a ‘coffee-cup’.  It’s too heavy and solid to be a coffee cup.  I mean, although its capacity is not great, this mug weighs a lot.  A lot.  And the handle is honestly not that comfortable to hold – doesn’t really fit right in my hand and kind of hurts my middle finger when I hold it.  Yet it is an oddly comforting mug to drink tea in when I am muzzy and thick, especially when that tea is like the tea my grandmother used to make me when I was little and we played pretend.  Her tea was always normal black tea, brewed strong and sweetened with a big glop of honey (I almost said dollop, but it really was more of a glop) and just enough milk to turn it a nice dark tan.  That’s how my tea is today.  It’s comfort-tea. 

There are several herbal teas that I drink when I feel this way (Herba-tussin, Throat Coat, Egyptian Licorice Tea) that actually make me feel better because they actually are made to do that, but this tea brings a completely different kind of comfort.  When I drink this tea I feel loved.  I feel like the center of the universe for someone who delights in me.  That’s what my memories of being at Granny Pat’s house stir up – when I was there, I felt like the absolute center of her world. 

As I dwell on those memories, I can feel God stirring inside me the knowledge that this is how he wants me to feel when I think of him.  Like the apple of his eye.  Loved.  Not with the questionings and insecurities of adulthood, but with the simple acceptance of a child, secure and delighting in her Father’s care, knowing that all is right and all will be right and she is just loved for who she is.  So I will sit here and drink my tea and think about the terrible and awesome wonder of the fact that the God who created the universe is looking at me and loving me, even when I feel so unlovely.

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