When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Coffee
This morning did not start out well.
I could rival Loralee Gilmore with my coffee-loving, crazed ways. I am my happiest when I have a hot cup of black coffee pressed to my lips. Truly, the smell of coffee brewing makes my heart sing.
This morning, I realized as I woke up that I was out of coffee filters. Normally, I would just pull down my french press but, I broke that awhile back and have yet to replace it.
So there I stood, no coffee in sight, at 5:45am which, as I’m sure you know, is already a cruel time of the day.
In an effort to make myself human, I decided that pouring my coffee into a boiling sauce pan of water was my best shot. Do not ever attempt this. I almost experienced “Death by Coffee” which, if I’m being honest, wouldn’t be the worst way to die.
I was then met with the decision of what to pour the coffee into once I had strained it. A bowl didn’t seem quite right as it wouldn’t keep the coffee warm. Straight into the mug? No, the rest would also need to be separated from the beans. I quickly scanned my kitchen for any item that could be used when I saw my porcelain tea pot. This would be grand.
After my love for coffee, my next great love is all things grand and beautiful. When I drink tea, I drink it out of china tea cups. When I celebrate something, anything, the china comes out again and the table is decorated. If it is ever acceptable (and it isn’t often in Hawaii) I wear heels and don fake eyelashes. It is this very love of beauty that made my tea pot the perfect choice.
I wish I had some beautiful revelation for you today but instead, all I have to offer you is a reflection on coffee.
I began drinking coffee when I was far too young to consume that much caffeine but my mom looked the other way, eager for someone to sit and enjoy the morning ritual with her. My friends were confused as to why I was so eagerly steamy, bitter goodness in a mug but I knew deep down that coffee was about more than just a drink. Coffee, the ritual coffee, was a liturgy. It was the pattern that shaped my days. The mornings that I spent in an overstuffed chair in front of a fireplace with my mom, those are coffee. The late night study sessions, coffee. The first time you pour out your heart to a friend, that is coffee as well.
I guess now that I’ve though about it, maybe coffee is a thin place too. Maybe God has used this to connect me and others to Himself. My moms instruction, a friend’s encouragement, quiet time in the Psalms, all involved the settling of my heart and a beautiful, functional mug in my hand.
So here I sit. Curled up with my computer and my coffee as my puppy tries to figure out what the strange, life-giving things are on the tray, taking up her usually morning spot. I anticipated a morning of green tea getting me through until I could hit up the coffee shop on my way to work but I found something better, coffee in a tea pot. This might be my new favorite thing.
“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.” — T.S. Eliot