I spent hours matching teacups to saucers.
Taking pics of each set.
Numbering every photo.
Stacking everything that didn’t have a match.
Then I spread all the matching sets across the counters and tables because I figured it would make it easier for S. to see everything.
I thought she’d walk around, look at each one, and maybe pick out a few pieces she wanted.
Instead she looked around the room for a minute and said,
“I’ll take everything.”
I asked her several times because I thought she meant everything she’d picked up.
Nope. Everything.
I don’t think she realizes how relieved I was when she said those three words.
…
Around 1996, momma decided she wanted to open a tea shop.
I don’t remember exactly when she first had the idea, but I remember hearing about it for years. She wanted it to be more than just a tea room. She wanted people to come have tea, do crafts, spend time together. She used to call it “Tea and Things” or “Craft with Tea.” I don’t remember which one came first.
Around that same time she started collecting fine bone china teacups from England.
Then more teacups.
Then saucers.
Then teapots.
Then all kinds of tea accessories.
Before long she had an incredible collection.
She spent years building it.
It wasn’t something she picked up here and there. She put a lot of time, energy, money, and love into finding those pieces.
Somewhere along the way she started saying we should do the tea shop together.
My answer never changed.
Her dream wasn’t my dream.
I love tea.
I absolutely LOVE all things tea.
I love tea parties.
I love going to tea rooms.
I have zero interest in owning one.
I knew enough about business by then to know what something like that could ask of a person.
Especially a business with that much inventory.
But if I’m being completely honest…I also knew me.
If I ever said yes, I don’t think it would’ve stayed “our” business.
It would’ve become mine.
I probably leaned harder on the obstacles than I needed to but I wanted her to have a realistic picture of what that business could ask of her.
…of me.
…of us.
Maybe I leaned too hard on the hard parts sometimes.
I don’t know.
I just knew I couldn’t say yes because I felt guilty.
That wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.
So every time she brought it up…
My answer stayed the same.
I can help you.
I just can’t do it for you.
…
As the years went by, we ended up living closer to each other again.
Then eventually we were living in the same house.
The collection took up a lot of space.
When we had basements, it was easy to forget about all those bins.
Once we didn’t…
It was harder to ignore.
One day momma told me she’d decided it was time to let go of the collection.
She said the window had passed.
I remember asking if she was sad.
She just kept saying,
“I’m okay.”
I asked her more than once.
“I’m okay.”
I’ve wondered ever since if part of that was her protecting me.
Maybe she’d already made peace with it before she ever said it out loud.
I don’t know.
…
Around that same time we’d found Lavender ‘n Lace.
We’ve been to tea rooms in different states and even different countries, and Lavender ‘n Lace is easily in our top three.
The whole place is an experience.
You start relaxing before you even walk through the front door.
The gardens.
The trees.
The way everything is cared for.
Then you walk inside and somehow it just gets even better.
And then there are the people.
Over the years we’ve gotten to know the family really well.
Watching the daughter take over the tea room from her parents has always felt a little ironic to me.
Momma wanted me to take over her dream.
Their daughter actually did.
When momma decided she was ready to part with the collection, Lavender ‘n Lace was the first place she thought of.
She also mentioned a few women’s groups and church groups, but she wanted to give S. first dibs.
A couple of times we tried to find a day for her to come look at everything, but our schedules never seemed to line up.
Then one summer momma went on an international trip.
I reached out to S.
After I’d coordinated everything with her, I told momma and she was okay with it.
So I went into full systems mode. 😂
I matched every cup with its saucer.
Took pics of every set.
Numbered every photo.
Made an inventory.
Stacked everything that didn’t have a match.
Then I spread all the matching sets across the counters and tables so she could easily walk around and see everything.
When S. walked in, she got emotional almost immediately.
She started picking them up one by one.
Looking at them.
Turning them over in her hands.
You could tell she understood what she was looking at.
Then she looked at me and said,
“I’ll take everything.”
It was amazing.
And bittersweet.
Amazing because I knew they were going to someone who genuinely appreciated them.
Bittersweet because momma wasn’t there to be a part of it.
S. wasn’t buying dishes.
She was loving on them.
She kept talking about how beautiful they were.
How unique they were.
At one point she even laughed and said she wasn’t sure she’d be able to use them because she might just want to display them.
I wish momma had been there to see that.
I wish she’d been able to see someone appreciate her collection the way she always had.
…
We kept some of the pieces.
Those are the ones we still use when we have our own tea parties.
And every time we go to Lavender ‘n Lace, we secretly hope momma gets served tea in one of her own cups.
…
I’ve been thinking about this often because it’s one of the clearest examples I have of not taking on more than I could honestly carry.
For a long time I felt guilty.
Maybe part of me always will.
I wanted momma’s dream to come true.
I just knew I couldn’t be the one to make it happen.
If I had said yes…
Eventually that business would’ve become my responsibility.
The research.
The communication.
The finances.
Finding a building.
Getting it ready.
Driving everywhere because she didn’t drive.
Everything.
I knew that back then.
That’s why my answer never changed.
I could help.
I could encourage her.
I could listen to every new idea she had.
But I couldn’t build that dream for her.
I think I knew, even back then, that taking it on would’ve run me ragged.
And I’d have been running myself ragged building a dream that wasn’t mine.
I don’t think I had the words “running on empty” back then.
Or maybe I just hadn’t named it yet.
I just knew I’d end up exhausted…and exhausted doing something I wouldn’t enjoy.
I think she truly believed the window had passed.
And I think she finally accepted that I wasn’t going to do it with her.
I wish the window hadn’t passed for her.
But I still couldn’t do it with her.
And pretending otherwise might’ve changed the story I told myself.
But it wouldn’t have changed what actually happened.
🧡
The Collection
_________
This Connects To…
→ Make Decisions You Can Live With – The decision can hurt and still be the decision you can live with.