China Tea Set

What an incredible gift, a china tea set. One of her favorite Christmas presents. It was hers. She was delighted. She was only four, not turning five until the following May. It was “not” really a gift for someone so young. It was fragile. But, it was hers. And she played with the tea set with great delight, at least until that day when she came crying to her daddy. She had dropped the tea pot, it was in many pieces, and she was devastated.

Her daddy (that is me) went to recover the pieces of the tea pot. There were many pieces. He painstakingly looked for all the pieces and went for the super glue. He glued the pieces together with as much care as he could muster. The tea pot was obviously reconstructed. He presented the repaired tea pot to his daughter fearing she would be disappointed. Amazingly, she was elated. She beamed with joy and said, “Daddy fixed it!” Daddy was relieved. She was not only not disappointed, but thrilled to have the tea pot fixed.

She continued to play with the china tea set as she had before. One day she came to her daddy and rather calmly reported she had dropped and broken the tea pot again. She was not tearful. She looked at her daddy with a wide smile and without a hint of doubt, stated “Daddy fix it!” No pressure at all!! He went to the shag carpet, collected pieces and painstakingly repaired the tea pot once more. This time there were many more pieces and several small shards. Some could not be recovered. He sat down with the super glue and finished the repair. With not a little hesitation, he showed his daughter. He “knew” she would be disappointed because it did not look too good. But, she was as thrilled as the first time. “Daddy fixed it!”

She did not play with the tea pot again that I recall. But, she kept it. One day she told her daddy that she wanted to show him something. She was married and had her first child by then. She went to a closet, pulled out a plastic storage tub, and removed that china tea pot that daddy had fixed. It was a moving experience for her daddy. At one time, her daddy could fix things and be a hero. I was that daddy.

Thinking about things broken, I fondly recall the china tea pot. I remember the painstaking re-construction done out of love. She was thrilled. To think of the confidence she had in me then. Then I realize: I do not hold a candle to God, the ultimate fixer and supreme hero. “Daddy fix it!”