One of his fondest memories of his dad as he was growing up was how at every meal he’d drink from the same cup.
It was little, red and made of metal…the only one of its kind in the house he ever saw…which, over the years, he noticed developed a chip…on its brim…a little flaw.
One day he asked his dad, “Why not get a new cup…Why use that old one with a chip around the brim?” His dad set the cup down…then smiled as he looked up at him.
“I know this may sound strange…but this cup is a comfort to me…the more I’ve used it over the years the more it seems part of my family.”
“I drank from this cup when I was finding the courage to ask your mom to marry me…and I was blessed…to drink wine from this cup with her…the moment she said yes.”
“I drank from this cup when we found out your mom was pregnant with you…and again in the early morn…the day I witnessed a miracle…the day when you were born.”
“This cup has seen me through good times and bad.” He said as with two hands he picked it up…”and somewhere along the way it became more than just a cup.”
“With its chips and flaws you wonder why I keep drinking from it…because it’s easy for me to see…how this old cup with its chips and flaws…is a little bit like me.”
“This might not make much sense to you now…how one old chipped cup can give me such a thrill…but one day when you’re older I imagine that it will.”
And one day, long after his dad passed…his son, now growing up, asked him why he always drank from that old, red metal cup.
He smiled and with two hands he lovingly picked it up…
“Let me tell you a story, son…
the story of this cup.”