When all your cups are broken
When all your cups are broken... it's difficult to receive.
Whether your hopes have been dashed from past hurts, or
Your circle of trust has all but evaporated, or
Your actual, quantifiable resources are scarce...
it can be difficult to receive.
The irony presents itself: The one who is in most need may be least able to receive.
"To he who has, more will be given. To he who does not have, even what he has will be taken from him."
When all my cups are broken, I often find myself withdrawing.
Pulling back, retreating into the self-protective mechanisms that are intended to keep me safe...
When what WILL keep me the safest is trust. Is belonging. Is openness. Is belief.
When all my cups are broken, jealousy raises its voice and rears its head. Fear, too, appears.
In these moments, I may not have much. I may be in dire need.
In these moments, a sincere thank you means that much more. An open-handed ask may be the best that I can give, to myself and to others.
When my card declines and I can't pay for a bus trip with my 5-year-old from preschool.
When we're at the checkout of the grocery store and we can't pay for our groceries.
When I feel unseen and unsafe and unheard and unnoticed.
My default reaction has been a sort of panic. Which makes sense, but accomplishes nothing.
I am learning, when my cups are broken, to pause. To rejoice. To laugh. To consider the facts and smile anyhow. To hold out open hands, even with cuts and scrapes. To see the stranger and the other in need and to see me in them and them in me. To go out of my way to appreciate the people that do not appear "successful" in all the ways we are accustomed to seeing success.
I am learning, when my cups are broken, to choose joy. To find strength. To remain open. And to start repairing my cups for trust, receptivity, enoughness, and abundance.