Yeah, so we're a coffee-loving family

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.

Wordplay

I just walked upstairs to refill my coffee cup, and was reminded that words don't always mean what we think they mean.

I spent Monday in DC with my new friend, Caitlin Muir from Portland, Oregon. Caitlin is a writer, a dreamer, and a fellow coffee lover, and she brought me some Stumptown Coffee, roasted just twelve days ago. Holy cow— to say this is good coffee would be drastically non-sufficient. So today I'm breaking my "mostly half-caff" rule, and indulging in a big mug of fully-charged goodness. Good coffee deserves good treatment, of course.

Now, fresh-brewed Stumptown Coffee is reason enough to refill the coffee mug today. But the real reason that I had to pour myself another cup is because... I spilled my first one. [hangs head in embarrassment] Yep. Dumped the whole thing over on itself. Last week I finally got around to joining the Starbucks Gold cool club, and when the card came in the mail today, I got so excited that I completely knocked over my coffee mug. Classic.

ANYWAY...

I was in the kitchen, somewhere near the coffee pot, when I heard Sean mutter under his breath, "boxer rebellion." I stopped. I know for a fact that he's immersed in American History right now. I listen to his school video while I work on my laptop in the mornings. I also know for a fact that he hasn't started World History yet, so I naturally wondered what on earth he was talking about. So I asked him.

"Sean, do you know what the Boxer Rebellion is?" He responded with a very confident affirmative. Carter walked into the kitchen. "Well, I don't know what it is," he said. I asked Sean to enlighten us all, and his face grew a little less confident. "Well, I'm pretty sure that I know what it is." "Okay," I said, "tell me what you think it is." His face went from semi-confident to extremely unsure in about 3.7 seconds. "Actually, I don't know what it is. I know what I mean when I say it, but..." His voice trailed off. "Okay, so what do you mean?" I asked. He looked a little sheepish, and then said, "It's when your boxers come up above your pants, and you have to pull your pants up."

And at this moment I almost spilled my coffee again, this time from laughter. I explained what the term "Boxer Rebellion" usually refers to, and Sean looked even more sheepish. He explained that Charlie uses that term a lot (in Sean's context), and we all laughed a bit.

Oh, my family. They never cease to amaze and entertain me.

The whole scenario made me think about the words I say, and how understanding is influenced by context, and history, and culture, and worldview, and so many other things at work beneath the surface and in the air surrounding our words. Given the vast differences between each individual on the face of this planet, I marvel that we can understand one another, at all. Proverbs 2:6 says that God is the one who gives wisdom, and "from His mouth come knowledge and understanding."

I know communication is not impossible, as long as I have Christ as my worldview.

[a boxer rebellion, according to Sean]


And in case you were wondering... yes, Jason Mraz's voice is dancing through my head right now, 'cause "it's all about the wordplay."

Wednesday...

Happy Wednesday! The sun is shining, the leaves are turning, creativity is flowing, my checklist is... my checklist (oh, well), and I have coffee in my hand. Life is good.

Today I'm thankful for:

Psalm 127
My alarm went off for twenty minutes this morning before penetrating my sleep enough to wake me. I think that maybe, just maybe, I'm tired. We read Psalm 127:2 in family devotions— "It is vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for He gives His beloved sleep." There is so much comfort in the last part of that verse!! I think I'll go to bed early tonight...

Cold medicine
Sunday morning I woke up feeling a cold coming on, and I immediately downed enough medicine to heal a herd of cows. I'm telling you, I would swear by Zicam and Sambucol. Sunday I was sick, today I'm just about back to "normal" again. Which, by the way, is a near miracle, considering the fact that for the past five years or so, every time I catch a cold, it moves to my chest and I'm sicker than a dog for more than a week. Needless to say, I'm one happy chic right now.

Hemp milk
I found Hemp milk at Wegmans! I'm trying to avoid dairy and soy products, which is a huge challenge, especially when it comes to coffee. I just can't stomach black coffee, and hemp milk is thick enough to act as a pseudo cream. Sort of. At least it's better than rice milk in coffee.

Fall
There is absolutely nothing as wonderful as crisp fall air. It is my favorite season, hands down. Warm colors and cool air. Gorgeous afternoon light. Bonfires and apple cider. Sweaters and scarves and jeans and socks— all of my favorite clothes. And pumpkin spice cider at Hyperion Espresso. So many happy thoughts!

Logos and branding
Yes, yes, yes! I've been working on rebranding for several months now, and I think I've finally got it. Give me feedback! I want to know what you think of colors and styles!

Brown


Green


Red


Yellow


Personally, I'm rather partial to the yellow & gray set, or the red & gray set. Feedback? Please?