Sunday, July 18, 2010

Coffee

by Elisa Morgan

I didn’t used to like coffee. I was a “tea” girl instead. Coffee was – well – it left a “hmmmphghhhh” taste in the front of my mouth. Just behind my front teeth.

Throughout high school exams, college finals, even in the months of early motherhood where I blearily stared at the bundle God had entrusted to me wondering how I would ever manage to feed, bathe and clothe the thing, I didn’t drink coffee. I didn’t like the taste. To be honest, I was a little judgmental about friends and folks who did like coffee. After all, how could they?

And then, in my mid-thirties, it happened. I was minding my own business, seated at a round banquet table having just ingested the chicken dinner. I picked up my dessert fork to tine a bite of chocolate cake into my still-hungry mouth. And then, without really noticing, I reached for my coffee cup that was usually a teacup but had been filled with coffee by some thorough wait staff person. Without noticing its contents, I raised it to my lips.

I sipped. I slurped. I drew my head back and peered at the contents. Something was off. I stared at the espresso color. I swallowed again, ran my tongue against the back of my front teeth, puckered my lips and breathed out and in amazement. I took another sip. I liked it. I liked coffee.

This same stunning surprise has occurred over and over in my relationship with God. There are lots – oh so many things! – that I don’t particularly like at first.

Interruptions that draw my attention off the oh-so-very-important project I’m buried in and on to – get this – a human being. I raise my head from my task and squint at the person before me and am somehow strangely more gratified than I was just minutes before in my all-consumingly vital task.

Disobedient dogs who go running after balls in the middle of the dog park and don’t come back even when I scream their names so loudly my husband can hear me on the deck of our house a mile away. And then they come back so happy, and muddy, and slobbery and oblivious to their error and eager to love and be loved. And I laugh. A concrete illustration of all the very real issues I can’t control in life.

Yep. There are lots of things I don’t like. I honestly think I finally started to like coffee partly because I’d matured to the point that my mouth could take in its offering. But also because I let my guard down – the piece of me that had staked a side of my identity on not liking coffee.

Looking back at my dislike and then like of coffee has made me reconsider all the other things I haven’t liked, and why. Disobedient dogs. Interruptions. Middle of the night tug of wars. Perplexing unanswered prayers. Here’s what I’m discovering: after sitting with most “unliked” things and eventually inviting God to sit with me in them, I start to sip, slurp and eventually draw my head back in surprise deciding: I like it. Sometimes begrudgingly. Sometimes just sorta – but I like it more than I don’t.

Know why? I decide I like it because I like God. And if he’s allowed it and if he’s in it, well, then I guess I like it.

Today I like coffee. Who knows what I’ll like tomorrow?

8 comments:

  1. For me, liking coffee didn't happen until I hit 50. I think it began when I needed a little more energy than my beloved tea could deliver. And now, I find that I cannot tolerate the caffeine--but I still like the coffee (iced only, though).
    For me, seeing God in these things has been, and still is, an ongoing process, and a delightfully surprising one. We are all in a process, hopefully maturing well and continuing to learn new things about ourselves, about life, and about our Lord. With a stronger relationship with God than ever before in my life, I am much less afraid to try new things much more intimidating than coffee!! (But you will note that I said "much less afraid"--I'm not quite fearless yet.)

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  2. I love this post :) I can only say that I TOTALLY RELATE! Hehe :) I feel like part of my identity is wrapped up in not drinking coffee... I am 27 and still holding to it, but we'll see what happens! I love how God changes our hearts!

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  3. There have been a few things God has worked on me to develop a "taste" for. Things like being more compassionate towards people who were not my "flavor." I know He still has many more things He needs me to mature into. Praise Him for being a God who never gives up on me.

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  4. Always have loved your writing, Elisa. I'm there with you. In my case it was Brussel sprouts, top of my nasty list. One Thanksgiving my niece made them and I tried....Just look what I'd missed!

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  5. "Even in the months of early motherhood where I blearily stared at the bundle God had entrusted to me wondering how I would ever manage to feed, bathe and clothe the thing..."

    Elisa, were you really referring to your baby as "the THING?" I find that quite offensive. I hope that you do now and always will have respect for that little bundle God entrusted you with. And I hope he/she never reads this article.

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  6. Really you magazine is wonderful. Love it. Thanks you for the teaching and wise councel.
    Rosa Lydia Munoz

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  7. Loved it. Nailed it. I have so much to learn from you, it's ridiculous. Now to find the brain cells I just know are in here somewhere...

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  8. Learned to enjoy coffee: age 30, on a Habitat trip to Costa Rica
    Learned to enjoy writing in a journal on a daily basis: age 24
    Learned to enjoy reading the Bible every night before going to sleep: age 31
    Learned to enjoy chores and laundry: age 32
    Learned to enjoy the "dailies" of life and the joy of serving my family: age 32
    Brussel sprouts? Not yet.

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