Skip to main content

The Yellow Cup

Everyday Mommy is holding a summer writing contest. The theme is What My Children Taught Me About God. This is my entry.

The Yellow Cup

I stood in the middle of the kitchen with my four year old’s arms wrapped around my ankles, impeding my ability to walk. Not only was I unable to move, but I was also being subjected to crying at such decibel levels that I was sure my ears were about to start bleeding.

Was she physically wounded? No. There were no sibling-inflicted bite marks on her body or budding bumps on her head from a fall. She was having a tantrum because I had given her the blue cup instead of the yellow cup at the table for dinner.

As I stood there, unable to move, I raised my eyes heavenward in exasperation at the ridiculousness of pitching a fit over the mere color of a beverage glass. Heaving a rather large sigh, I attempted to inch my way in the direction of the table. A four year old clutching your legs is a lot heavier to move than you might think, and is not something easily ignored.

I stopped and raised my eyes heavenward once again, pleading silently for the strength necessary to deal with yet another emotional crisis from one of my four children. And all over a simple cup for crying out loud! I was about to tell her that it was only a cup and all the other cups on the table were just like it only they weren’t YELLOW!

Then inspiration changed my entire perspective on things. It was as if I was being asked how many times had I ‘thrown a fit’ over something to my Heavenly Father in prayer that was utterly and entirely inconsequential? How often had He shown me great patience when I was upset at being given ‘the blue cup’ when I yearned for the ‘yellow cup’? He never scolded me, or made me feel like what I was agonizing over was silly. My emotions and feelings were valid and I always came away from my communion with Him believing that He had heard me and understood my heart.

I sat down on the floor with my sobbing four year old and held her in my arms. I explained to her that I understood she was upset, who wouldn’t be? The yellow cup was so incredibly…uh…yellow! Anyone could see it was the most beautiful cup on the table and to be able to drink out of that cup would be so thrilling! She wiped her soggy face on my shirt and turned her beautiful blue eyes up to me. I proposed that since this was the most yellow of cups, we would take turns drinking from it at mealtime. She shook her head in agreement and then asked if it was ok that tonight be her turn. I looked at my six year old, who happened to be in possession of the coveted yellow cup and she nodded her assent. All was well once again.

This may seem a trivial matter involving a child throwing a fit over a cup---and on some level it is. But it was also an inspired moment for me to feel my Father in Heaven’s hand reaching out to me, parent to parent, to resolve a crisis that was, for my daughter, a significant trial. It also showed me the eternal nature of parenthood, as I go to my Father in prayer over the color of my cups.


  1. Yes! So true...

    How many things can be worked through if we're just willing to let someone feel the way they feel (even when we think it's ridiculous)and then they come out of it understanding something even greater - that we care about them! ANd you are right - that's exactly what Heavenly Father does for us...

    Loved this post!

  2. Thank you both. I'm still working on the color of my cups. It's not easy.

  3. Very sweet. I love the application, and I love the 4 yo's ability to adapt and the 6yo's ability to share.

  4. What a great way to look at it.


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

I'll Love You Forever, I'll Like You For Always...

I rely on the kindness of strangers...

Or not so much strangers as readers of my miserable blog.

I received a beautiful card in the mail from my long-tine reader (perhaps my ONLY reader) that lifted my heart. Thank you, G. Parkes. It was kind of you to think of me. Seriously---you are so sweet. Thank you.

Perhaps we can meet in person one day. I'll be in Utah after Conference. We'll see how it goes.

I've been caring for my autistic grandson since July. It seems longer sometimes---and that's not a complaint. I adore this little man. He holds my heart. He fills my arms and my heart in the way that my own small babies used to do. When mine reached the age where they didn't want to be in my arms any longer, I felt their absence. Their absence from my arms was heavier than actually having them in my arms. It was an ache that is difficult to describe, a phantom pain where something once was but now is no longer.

Before my husband and I went to the cabin th…

I'm Sick. And the election isn't helping.

I spoke too soon about feeling better. My grandson was delightful enough to share his virus with me, so I've spent the past five days losing everything from both ends. It hasn't been pretty.

As a weight loss program though...

At least one end of me has stopped spewing. Now I wait for the other end to stop pretending to be filled with hot lava and erupting without much notice. Sorry, this is what is called over-sharing. Apparently I'm very good at it. You're welcome.

Last night I walked around the block with hubby and our adorable puppy. It was the first time I've been out of the house in five days. It was lovely, even though I was very shaky. Today I actually tried to accomplish something. I sat at my jewelry table, moved my seaglass around. Picked up pieces and played them through my hands. Such beautfy that came from something considered useless garbage and tossed away. I love my sea glass. It gives me the happies.

I also had a severe case of J…