Coffee is one of my favorite things.
I know a lot of people that drink coffee. When the hipster movement (guilty) hit every town, the coffee bars filled to capacity. Well, my crippling anxiety holds me tight I don’t go strange places alone so I enjoy the comfort of my momma made coffee at home. I love my coffee, I can make a mean batch of Folgers and really enjoy it.
My favorite kind of coffee is the one I can have with Jesus. I know that sounds clique but I honestly believe it. Every morning I get up, put my pot on and start my devotions through shereadstruth.com and sip my creamer with a dash of coffee. For the amount of coffee I drink, you think I would be better at drinking it. I usually miss the perfection point because I am deep in the bible or scribbling in my journal. That makes me sound like I’m full of wisdom but I am usually trying to find a fictional tv reference to the current story so I can understand it better.
But my morning routine isn’t the point of this story. A while back my dad’s great aunt died (She was one of the last holocaust survivors). Her final request was to have her ashes spread in the Black Hills. So her three children came to pay their respects to their late mother and father and carry out her wishes. So my mother being the hostess with the mostess. Offered to have all these adults over to our house for lunch and to reconnect with family before everyone goes their separate ways again.
But the story isn’t even about that. You see when I was standing in the kitchen I noticed that these old men were drinking out of my pink coffee cups. These men were used to their coffee strong and black (or as I call it bitter), they didn’t care about what the cup looked like they cared about the contents inside. I, on the other hand, am very vain. I am aware and anyone who knows me can agree to that fact. I don’t like to drink out of a plain white coffee cup because it’s not about the contents for me (although if I don’t have that caffeine I’m majorly defeated). The coffee is a symbol.
The coffee is cool. The world made coffee cool, before my senior year of high school I hated coffee, I didn’t see a need for it. I was fine with breakfast and off I went. I wasn’t caffeine dependant like I am today. I have tried my hardest to fit in. I have made it one of my missions in life and honestly, it’s exhausting. I don’t know how I have done it for so long, I really don’t.
You see, I have been the coffee cup. I have worked really hard on painting my sides and looking a certain way and not caring about how full and rich my contents is. I am now realizing it honestly is “whats on the inside that counts” and it’s a relief that I don’t have to worry about that. I am learning and growing every day toward who I am meant to be.
Sticking with the analogy, did you know that some people love water? I know that I don’t drink water out of coffee mugs. Water bottles can have the same analogy if you let it but I am trying to say that no matter how good you taste to one, someone still might think you are bitter and gross. I believe that is a fair assumption. I know I have met people in my life that I just don’t have a taste for no matter how hard I try. I can’t force myself to like them and they don’t like me. There is nothing wrong with that. We live in a big world. We get to choose who we let speak into our lives and that is important.
My new goal is not to fit in. I don’t have to make myself lovable by everyone I meet. I am going to by myself. I am a little crazy, I love Netflix and I love Jesus above everything else.What I am trying to say that I learn every day who I am and I don’t want to take ten steps back to try and fit in and change who I am. I am growing. I grow toward God more and more every day and I love that. It’s one of my favorite things. So even though I drink coffee because I really do love it now, it’s not to fit in. I am focusing on the coffee now. Not my mug.