My Broken Candy Dish

This post is by Vickie Pittman.

I had no idea my mom had written a devotion for a magazine. She typed it up on our typewriter circa 1985. It contained some grammatical errors and misspelled words, and I don’t know if she actually sent it off or just typed it up.

After her death, we found a manila file folder full of her newsletters. She’d put her devotion in that file.

As an author, I’ve had many of my devotions published. My mother cheered me on for everyone and always asked me when I was going to write a whole book of them.

I’m happy to be able to publish this one for her now.

--Kristee Ravan

 This is the story of how God taught me a lesson about possessions. 

I was a newlywed when I received a late wedding gift from a dear Sunday School teacher—a ceramic candy dish with two love birds on top. To me it was the symbol of our love. The love birds were pearl white except for some orange paint for their beaks. Orange being my favorite color caused me to cherish the dish all the more. Little did I know the lessons I would learn from that little candy dish in the years to come.

Kelsa, my nephew, who was three at the time, had developed a large sweet tooth. He loved to visit Aunt Vickie who always seemed to have just the right thing for a sweet tooth that was acting up. One day, having already had several pieces, Kelsa decided to help himself to Aunt Vickie’s candy. The unthinkable happened—my precious candy dish was shattered.

It is impossible to describe all the emotions I felt at that time. The primary one was anger: anger at his carelessness, anger at my neglect, anger at my sister for her lack of supervision. After anger I felt remorse, pain, and a deep longing for something that would never be the same. To me the candy dish symbolized our love, our marriage. How could it be so crumbled and ruined? Terry, my forlorn husband mumbled something about Super Glue and a little luck. Didn’t he understand it was never going to be the same?

Having never been married before, I failed to recognize the gradual changes that take place in a maturing relationship. My loving husband was able to mend that candy dish symbolizing that love endures. He pointed out that the little birds on the top were unharmed and so were we. (That’s why I love him so, but that’s another story.)

The years flew by and we were busy with a family. I had long ago resolved myself to the fact that children and precious candy dishes don’t mix well. I decided to baby proof our home. Up went all my nic-nacs into the closet—all things but one, the candy dish, well how could I? It was a little on the shabby side but still precious.

Since our honeymoon, Terry and I had on special occasions nibbled on mints in the bedroom. Why not put the little dish on the head of the bed? There it rested for several years, until an anniversary would roll around and once again the dish would be used.

By now we had two children, and Kellee, my youngest, was a delight. She took after her cousin, Kelsa in two ways. She was into all sorts of scrapes and trouble without ever knowing why. And they shared a sweet tooth that was never satisfied. 

The unthinkable happened again when Kellee was two. It had been one of those days when it doesn’t pay to be a mother. Kellee, who had been napping on my bed, awoke and spied the candy dish. When I discovered it, it was too late. I dissolved into tears. I yelled and screamed. How could she hurt her mother so? The absolute worst thing she could have done to me was ruin my keepsake.

As you can see, I had a lot to learn about being a mother. My ever-loving husband once again was able to mend the little dish, but nothing could repair the damage to Kellee. How could I mar and scar my children who are so precious to me? Just as the candy dish had lines, chips and cracks so had my relationships with my children.

The Lord began to deal with me. How could I ask the Lord to forgive me when I had been so unforgiving? Why had I let a mere possession get in the way of a person. This is the lesson the Lord wanted me to learn. People are a priority over possessions. Why had I not learned that lesson with Kelsa. Did God break my candy dish a second time to teach me a lesson? CRASH!! Oh no, not again! 

Yes, What is it Lord? I’m listening. 

You say I forgot the most important part? Who mended the dish? 

Well, Lord, you know it was Ter…What Lord? 

You mended my life. 

You love me? 

I’m precious to you. 

Yes Lord. Thank you.

I still have the candy dish, and it is a daily reminder of the many lessons the Lord has shown me. I look at it and wonder if it will still be around when I have grandchildren? I wonder if there is yet another lesson to be learned in that old candy dish.

Vickie Pittman lived much of her adult life in Oklahoma as a pastor's wife. She taught Sunday School, encouraged others, and prayed constantly for her family and congregation. She was a wonderful mother, a loving wife, and a faithful follower of Christ. She went home to heaven in August 2024.

Kristee Ravan lives in Oklahoma with her husband and children. She spends her days homeschooling, writing, and wondering if she ought to clean instead of read. She is the author of The Lily Sparrow Chronicles books available on Amazon. Her most recent book, Diminishing Progress, was released last fall.

Photo Credit: Kristee Ravan, of the actual candy dish