For many, many years, I admired Polish pottery in the homes of friends, on the shelves in picture books, and in local artisan shop windows. If given a chance to choose my coffee mug, I would choose a Polish pottery design every time it was available. The warmth of the signature Polish pottery colors and the shape of the ceramic always gave me a sense of comfort and home. I knew it fit within my cottage-style home with plants in the windows and olive wood treasures from Israel on my bookshelves, but I never could find an opportunity to bring a piece of Polish pottery home.

In spite of my deep appreciation of this useful European art for the kitchen and dining room, I never even so much as whispered my interest aloud – not even in the silence of my own home.

A few years ago, I decided to try and find my very own Polish pottery mug. An internet search revealed the retail cost to be well outside my budget. As Christmas approached, I resolved to find just one piece that I could wrap under the tree and address to myself. There were no other gifts under the tree that year, and I felt quite strongly that there should at least be one – something that could be treasured.

I scoured eBay. I scanned Facebook Marketplace. I combed through thrift stores. I even checked Craigslist.

-all for a gently worn piece of Polish pottery. But alas! The pickings were slim, and the prices was still too high for my pocketbook. As Christmas approached, I gave up my search with an effort toward resigned detachment, sipping tea instead from my well-worn and beloved Mandalorian mug.

Given the futility of the search and my lack of financial resources, I promptly made myself forget about Polish pottery altogether.

As Christmas approached that year, so did my annual frenzy. Simply put: gift giving is not my featured love language. In fact, it’s not even on my top three love languages. While financial resources were low that year, my creativity was quite high. I bustled about town as the big day approached, visiting craft stores and gathering ingredients at the grocery store for baked treats.

On this particular day, for no reason whatsoever, I entered Marshalls. I found myself walking through the rows of clothing, décor pillows, candles, perfumes, and picture frames.

“Why am I here?” I wondered. I started making my way to the door. As I did, I suddenly veered off the main aisle and started walking toward the very farthest corner of the store. “What am I doing?” I wondered again. I stopped before the furthermost shelf in the store and stared at the stacks of plates, dishcloths, and pepper-shakers.

Then, I saw them: the sweetest, coziest Polish pottery mugs on the shelf at eye-level, staring right back at me. I gasped. Could it be? “These are either knock-offs or are very expensive” I thought. I turned one mug over and saw the familiar insignia of genuine pottery from Poland.

They were REAL! The price tag also caught my attention: $9.99.

It didn’t take long for tears to flood my eyes and run down my face. Right here in Marshalls department store, I found myself being loved by my God in an intimate way. No one on this earth knew that I liked Polish pottery mug. No one on this earth – save Google and Facebook analytics – knew that I had been searching for one as a gift this Christmas to myself. But He knew, and He sent it to me in a way I could afford and treasure. Of this, I was sure: I was known by an all-knowing God, and loved beyond measure!

There were four mugs on the counter. I noticed the theme of His signature abundance and walked away with two. Some might regret not being able to purchase the whole set. But for me, having two was already double what I had been searching for – such abundance!

As my own love for God has grown, deepened, and matured over time, so has my understanding for the contentment that comes only from Him, and Him alone. Polish pottery mugs are nice of course, but the love I ponder every morning when I sip my coffee from them are so much more “heart-filling.”

“My beloved is mine, and I am His” the Lover sings in the Song of Songs. That’s me! I am His and He is mine. The same is true for you. Dear sister, I ask myself and you today: is He ALL yours? Are you ALL his? Does your love start, end, and cycle through Him and Him alone? It is only when He is the source of our most imitate love that every other relationship in our life is truly whole and free.

When we fall short, He lifts our burdens.

When husbands let us down, He holds us up.

When children are lost, He finds us.

When friends turn away, He runs toward us.

When fathers doubt, He believes.

When mothers fret, He rejoices.

Only He can fill all that is good, true, and beautiful within our hearts. Only He can know who we truly are.

Today, as the world finds itself in a conversational-heart-frenzy, let us open our hearts up in conversation with Him and Him alone, asking Him to show us the ways that He loves us as the Bridegroom loves His Bride. Chances are, He’s trying to tell you right now!

I am confident that He will not only tell you, but lead you to it, just like He led me to my Polish pottery.