Tuesday, 25 November 2014

Mug's Game


You may think it odd, but I have a particular mug which accompanies me to work each day.  It is an average sort of mug, round with one handle, and adorned with a picture of a fuchsia, which is so faded that it is only upon close examination that it is discernible.  I know my mug well.  I call it by name - work mug.  It is not even important enough to warrant the use of capital letters.

This morning, when I am getting ready for work, I pour the milk into a suitable container, and reach into the cupboard for work mug.  Only one problem, I cannot see work mug....I rummage around the cupboard in case it is hiding, or is trapped behind other mugs  Feeling faintly irritated by this unexpected delay, I express my surprise to my husband...
"That's odd," I say, "I can't find my mug!"
"What mug?"
"You know the one I take to work with me'
"What colour is it?"
"White."
"Ah!  I used that yesterday when I was cooking the dinner. It is on the draining board ready to go in the dishwasher...."  
I turn and look, and yes, there is my mug on the draining board, patiently waiting.
I turn my gaze back to the cupboard, bewildered that out of the array  of mugs of different shapes sizes and patterns he should chose the one I take to work.
"Why that mug?  You KNOW I use that one for work!"
"I didn't know you used that one for work."
"How could you NOT KNOW! I always use that mug?"
I am astounded that my husband has failed to notice that this mug regularly lurks in our kitchen, often inside a sandwich bag, waiting for the washing machine to be emptied and reloaded.  He must have seen it hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Yet has never noticed that it was the same mug I used everyday, and this was the one!
How many more things has he never noticed, I wonder.  I will never know!
What do I not notice about him?  What small details of daily life do we simply fail to notice, even though they happen day after day?

Thankfully we have a God, who knows us, our thoughts and no small details of our lives escapes his notice. A God who knows us better than we know ourselves, and perhaps far better than we are comfy with being known…

I sigh and get a different mug from the cupboard, place it into a sandwich bag and put it in my bag.
Then I take a mug shot of work mug.