We had beef and beans and taters,
biscuits, gravy too, likewise,
Good stout coffee and tamaters
and a passel of real pies….”
–Bruce Kiskaddon
Yeehaw, pard, did yuh know? Christmas times a-comin’! Coffee’s hot and strong this morning, and I’ve got the cup ready. Shoppin’ all done. What’s that? Yore hopin’ for a new pair of suspenders? Ha ha, ol’ pard, I hope yuh get ’em; sure don’t want your britches to be a-faillin’.
Shoulda made some biscuits and we could’ve had some cowboy communion. Been thinkin’ some about the “cup.” This ol’ gray matter went to flowin’ some. The Bible speaks of the Lord’s cup–the one He took, and then the one we commemorate. It speaks of a cup of iniquity. It speaks of a cup of sorrow and suffering. Then there are all sorts of cups and vessels mentioned. I’m shore ol’ Nehemiah, who was a cupbearer, carried his coffee cup with him as he inspected the walls.
We are told to be vessels of honor, and are warned about being vessels of dishonor. Pard, one thing for sure, yore no vase! Or it is vaase? Nope, you’re more like an ol’ pot. I do believe, however, that there a more pots out there in God’s kingdom that vases. Not to say a pretty vase doesn’t have its place. Let me get us a refill and I’ll continue. I figure I want to be a cup. Yep, just think of the use I’d get. Just for a moment think of me of that cup in yore hand. Don’t gag and slosh that coffee out; it’s too good to be a-wastin’ missin’ yore mouth. No, I’m not one of those fancy-dancy tea cups.
Listen, just listen a minute. A cup satisfies; a cup brings nourishment, a cup helps quench the thirst, a cup brings fellowship. Sakes alive a cup given in His name is service for Him. But, we can’t all be cups, take you, sure do look more like some kind of pot.
Look at the time; I’ve got to be a movin’ along. Wife’s been out in East Texas again, and time to get her home to her duties here. Shore ain’t the same when she’s not here. Hmmm, what would she be? That’s a hard one. Cup, mixin’ bowl, or vase?
Cinch is tight an’ ready to get the ol’ steel mount movin’. Hey, don’t be forgettin’ to check yore cinch, or yuh might end up a cracked-pot.