I don't know why, but every time a client walks in and bends to get some water from this fountain and brings the small, small cup up to their lips to drink,
it makes me want to cry.
I know, I'm crazy.
But think about it. These clients are all adults--big, strong, working adults. They come in with their respective lives on their minds--with their individual responsibilities and ailments and families and beliefs and problems. But they all look the exact same when they bend over to get that water:
They clasp the flimsy, tiny plastic cup in between their pointer and thumb fingers; I can see their big adult eyes poking out from over the little vessel.
And each time I think--
that is not enough water to satisfy you.
I explained this to N. one night when we were driving back from a wedding. (It's a testament to what an amazing man I married that he didn't pull the car over right there and drop me off at the closest 7-11 when I opened up to him about this....)
I remember I was crying into a bag of Doritos, sitting cross-legged in a black dress on the passenger's side when I finally realized about why this scene strikes me to deeply. It was some twenty minutes after I had initially burst into tears. And it came to me from a C.S Lewis quote that I remembered suddenly:
"like a child who wants to go on making mud pies in the slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."
This is why I want to cry, I think. Because we are far too easily pleased. We have been given much. And we are content to sit around with little. At least I am, I think.
May you drink of God today and be satisfied. May you drink from His vessel which knows no capacity.