
As many of you know, I love coffee. A lot. Many of you also know that I am not alone in my love for coffee. It is, in fact, something that has been carefully fostered and cultivated by my parents. But do you know why I love coffee?
My father is an amazing man of God. He is a strong leader, enthusiastic, energetic, and always has wise counsel. My mother is humble, and steady in her love for Jesus. She is the perfect person to spill my heart to, because she always listens. And she patiently listens for God's voice, too. There are few things that please my parents more than to see godly fruit in their kids, and I grew up rising early so we could get in family devotions before Dad left for work.
I have clear memories of those mornings— the alarm went off, I got up, dressed, and went straight to the kitchen, where I found Dad fixing his coffee. Sometimes it was his first cup. But often, he had already been up for awhile, in God's Word, preparing to lead his family into worship. When I was young, I fixed myself a cup of herbal tea before sitting down around God's Word, but eventually grew into coffee, as well.
My parents also taught me that discipleship and coffee go hand-in-hand. We hosted Care Groups at our house throughout my early years. Tuesday nights were like clockwork— 5:30pm, feed the kids. 6:00pm, final touches on the house. 6:30pm, kids in bed. 6:45pm, turn the coffee pot on. I was about 14 when my parents began to disciple individual couples. I remember falling asleep to the smell of coffee and the gentle hum of voices gathered around the Word of God, and in fellowship with one another.
Some people drink coffee for the stimulant. Others drink it for the flavor, or because they like holding something warm in their hands. Now, don't get me wrong— I don't complain about caffeine, and I love the flavor, the scent, and the warmth of coffee. But for me, it means much more than what the physical senses can discern.
The sound of the coffee grinder is a welcome invitation to sit, and enjoy, and talk for awhile. A hot mug in my hand means that I am safe, and I am loved. The primary reason I drink coffee is because, growing up, I watched my parents walk out faith and discipleship with mugs of coffee in their hands and another pot brewing in the kitchen. As I have learned to love God's Word and heart-to-heart conversation, it was always with a pottery mug within reach.


2 comments:
gahhh I LOVE this. Love it. love your writing... love your family. You are so blessed, dear. So blessed. :)
That is a great photo. Who is that, and when did you get a fisheye?
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