Love and Coffee

Coffee coffee coffee is my mantra. I love coffee.  I love trying new coffees, making coffee, sharing coffee.  When a co-worker/coffee friend gave me a delicious bag of beans from a recent trip, I thanked her for sharing the coffee with me, and she replied, "Of course, that's what coffee is for."

Communion.  Every cup is a communion.  It is the sharing, the community, the relationships between co-workers and customers that have grown and evolved over the years that I love the most.

Still, I don't necessarily want to be a barista forever.  And in the restlessness of wondering, the aching for more than pouring coffee and making lattes and being constantly sucked dry of all energy from being on my feet and socializing all day (which let me tell you, for this introvert, is exhausting), I find peace only in the One who made the stars and the sea and the coffee trees.

Gratitude is too shallow a word to describe the depth of joy I find at the gift of His peace, manifested in His mercy and grace, especially in the darkness that has recently visited.  In the exhaustion that cannot be cured by coffee (yeah, I said it), He picks up my weary soul and carries me through it all.

Just after the recent canonization of my beloved Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta, I picked up a free copy from church of With Great Love, a book of reflections on Mother Teresa by Susan Conroy, who spent time working with the saint. Saint Mother Teresa and her patron, Saint Therese of Lisieux have always been close to my heart, and I aspire to follow their examples of putting great love into the every little action, no matter how simple.

In this looooong week of work full of too many too-early mornings, God, in His mercy and grace, graced me with the perfect reflection on this very subject from Susan Conroy.  It's a lesson I have heard so many times throughout my life, and a lesson I have attempted to apply to my time working in coffee over the years.  But as I recently heard, our spiritual lives are not linear.  They are not gradual uphill climbs, but rather, they are paths full of stumbling and falling and, by the grace of God, persevering toward that seemingly ever elusive holiness and perfect communion with Him.

Every cup is a communion.  Not a perfect communion, but a communion of all our broken humanity scooped up into a mug, a chalice, a hug, a smile.

"Let every action of mine be something beautiful for God," said Saint Mother Teresa.  As she wandered the streets of Calcutta, she and her sisters performed simple tasks, such as sitting with the dying so they didn't have to die alone, or providing a blanket to someone who was shivering, or giving a glass of water to someone who was thirsty.  As Conroy describes:

"It was not the work that was extraordinary, but rather, the way in which it was done.  It was the spirit of the work that made it extraordinary: the spirit of love, humility, tenderness and respect with which each human being was touched and held and cared for.  It was precisely this spirit of love and humility that made Mother Teresa a saint and made every action of hers 'something beautiful for God.'

"It is always about the love.  Love, love, love.  Mother Teresa said that this is the reason we exist--to love and serve God by loving and serving one another....

"It doesn't matter how much we give, but rather how much love we put in the giving.  [Mother Teresa] encouraged us to 'put love into everything you do, and you will be fulfilling your vocation.'

"'God is Love,' Saint John the apostle tells us.  Do everything with God.  Do everything with 'the fullness of charity' in your heart, and you will be fulfilling your duty and your destiny in a way that is most pleasing to God."

No matter what I do, even as I search for work beyond barista-ing, I can put love into each little action, into each cup of coffee I pour, into each dish I wash, into each person I meet.

Yes, coffee coffee coffee is my mantra, but what is coffee all about?  It is about the people, the communion, the love.

"It is always about the love.  Love, love, love."

 

 May we never forget.  <3  

Because Grace

Interviews, small talk, phone calls, holding others accountable/confrontation--these are the things that make up an introvert's living hell, and they are all things that I am required to do more and more often in this phase of life called adulthood.

Working in customer service is difficult for an introvert like me.  I'd much rather be holed up in a corner reading a book.  Instead, I am constantly surrounded by people.  For 8 hours a day, I am constantly on and at the ready to answer life's most difficult questions such as, "Where is the bathroom?" and "Can you make that nonfat?"

Now, I've always carried this cross, a social handicap of sorts that prevents a speedy connection between my brain and my mouth.  The words I really want to say don't come out when I want them to.  Instead, they stew and brew inside of me for hours, days, weeks, years until suddenly they burst out through my pen (or through my fingers on the keyboard).  My pen has a quick wit; my tongue. . . not so much.

I've often prayed for the courage or the words or whatever it is that would relieve me of this cross, but I recently realized that what I really wanted was a sort of miraculous personality change.  And then I realized that such a miracle, while totally possible for God, would be entirely against His will.  He made me the way I am for a reason, and He loves me for me.  He doesn't love who I think He wants me to be.

Nothing that we do or don't do can make Him love us any less.  His love is unwavering.

So then what? I'm stuck an awkward introvert forever?  Of course not.

For one thing, I have taken Elizabeth Bennet's words to Mr. Darcy (about his inability to converse easily with strangers) to heart:  "Perhaps you should take your aunt's advice and practice."  I do practice every day in customer service.  And though it often feels uncomfortable and awkward, it has become easier, more natural. I would still rather be holed up in a corner reading Pride and Prejudice, but that wouldn't be worth much to anyone.  Instead, I offer my weakness, my cross, to God and I let His power be manifested in it.

"'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'"  I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong." ~2 Corinthians 12:9-10

I fall constantly, but that causes me to constantly rely on God for His grace, strength, and mercy.  I am constantly forced to forget myself (lest I wither away in the misery and despair of over thinking everything) and turn my mind to Him.  I think it is in this way that His will is done best:  when we offer ourselves as empty vessels, He fills us with His love, and that love overflows to other people until we're empty again, and He fills us again, and on and on the circle of love and His magnificence goes.

"I can sanctify you in an instant. But I love your long and patient work; it keeps you humble.  Acquire loving humility--it will exalt you.  Discouragement never elevates anyone.  Keep going.  Don't stop.  I kept going on the road to Calvary and in spite of such agony.  I got there.  Look at Me and you will find new courage.  And honor Me by calling Me to help you."  ~He and I 

It can get a little wearisome--I get tired of confessing the same sins over and over.  But when I look back at all the plans I had for myself, and how practically all of them failed and fell to the wayside, and I see that in some ways I am exactly where I never wanted to be, and in some ways exactly where I hoped to be, I know that I know nothing.  I can put forth effort and work toward my goals, but He will only lead me there when I am good and ready.  In the meantime, I will continue to seek Him, and He will continue to fill me and mold my heart to better match His.  It won't be easy, and it's going to hurt.

And I'm oddly okay with that, because it will totally be worth it.  Because His grace is enough.

Because grace.