Mornings and being on the prowl for a black coffee always go together. In times of distress, tea or even just hot water are poor substitutes. My longing for the dark liquid is always with me at the beginning of the day. There is something about a warm cup of coffee that permissions my heart, soul, and physical body to fully come awake for the day ahead.
On a recent quest, the designated coffee shop was empty. The silence was quite clear. No matter what I said, the answer was still going to be the same. On deck were what appeared to be two books on coffee. To my dismay, there were no recipes or stories, just two book props. They stood silently on their own, toying with my emotions while reminding me that there were times when coffee was being made, just not today!
The props were great reminders as I made coffee this morning with a French press. The course grind of the El Salvadorian beans, the temperature of the water (too hot brings out the bitterness in the beans), and the water itself came together for a soothing and inspiring morning cup. Life took the opportunity to remind me of the guides she has left with me for the day ahead.
Recipes are instructions designed to help a chef create a fantastic dish. I often hear an instruction as a demand. The response to “Help her out in whatever she asks. She deserves anything you can do for her. She’s helped many a person, including me,” (Romans 16.2) is not always positive. Recipes remind me that I am being invited into a successful experience. When I respond to the instruction to help, I am being invited into an experience of what it means to express kindness and care. The result is shared between the receiver of the gift and me as the giver. As good as any recipe is, the result always rests with the individual who is in the arena. Guiderails will point me to a doorway that only I can open.
