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  

Sprinkles In My Coffee

"Sprinkles make everything better," my mom likes to say.

This saying goes back to summer excursions to McDonald's for soft serve ice cream cones.  They were always delicious, but wouldn't they be better with some sprinkles?  We thought so, so we started bringing our own containers of sprinkles to the drive thru with us.

We would pull into a parking space and dip our cones into the rainbow goodness.  The sprinkles did spice up the otherwise plain vanilla ice cream, but the laughter at our own absurdity was what really sprinkled the extra fun on those memories.

When I was struggling through my senior thesis in college, my mom sent me a care package, and I can't really remember anything that was in it except for the container of rainbow sprinkles marked, "Just in case."  Just the sight of those colorful specks of sugar and the meaning behind the small gift was enough to cheer me up.

I didn't think to use them though until one day when I knew I would need an extra boost of something to get through a long day of classes and work.  I was about to brew my daily coffee when I heard my mom's voice in my head saying, "Sprinkles make everything better."  Laughing at my absurdity, I decided to grind up some sprinkles with my coffee beans.

As the coffee brewed, I half-hoped that the rainbow sprinkles would somehow change the color of the coffee, but of course they didn't.  I thought I detected a slight extra bit of sweetness, but I'm pretty sure it was my imagination.  The placebo effect worked though.  I put the coffee in a travel mug and giggled all the way to class, just knowing that there were sprinkles in my coffee.  It was a little thing, but it brought me comfort and joy.

That's what I aimed to do with this blog from the beginning, to find the beauty in the little, ordinary things of every day, to add a little color to the things that are otherwise gray or dull.  Over the years, it has evolved into spiritual and personal reflections and ramblings, and more recently, experiments in all things coffee.

I have enjoyed writing all of it, but recently while I experimented with delicious coffees that I discovered from other companies across the country, a sad container of old, ordinary, just-okay coffee beans sat with its future undetermined.  I knew I couldn't waste it, but I couldn't drink it by itself either.  With the help of a coffee shop I discovered on Instagram, the idea of how to add something extra to this ordinary coffee began brewing in my head.

On Instagram, I stumbled on Vagabond Coffee in Jacksonville, Florida.  They make their own gourmet pop-tarts (they make their own pop-tarts!) AND they have sprinkle Fridays.  That's right, on Fridays they post pictures of delicious looking pop-tarts and lattes sprinkled with rainbow sprinkles.  And the cherry on top of all these sprinkles?  My mom was born in Jacksonville!  Apparently the soul of that place has sprinkles in it, and sprinkles are therefore in my blood.  Now I have a huge coffee crush on this coffee shop and cannot wait to (hopefully) go there with my mom when we go to the Jacksonville/St. Augustine area for a family reunion next summer.

Until then, I will have to make my own sprinkle coffee experience, hence, my solution for these ordinary coffee beans.  Since I work as a barista, I typically drink high quality coffee, and the thought of tainting that delicious black coffee with sprinkles has been far from my mind, though I do add them to my lattes on special occasions.  One thing I have absolutely never done is add them to cold brew. . . SO for the (name)sake of this blog, I owe it to you, to my mom, to myself to at least experiment with sprinkles in my cold brew coffee.  Just for fun.

And honestly, I had more fun taking pictures of the project than anything, but here we go!

Sprinkles, coffee, sunshine, an adorable hedgehog mug, and an adorable mug and saucer in my favorite color from one of my dearly beloved coffee friends

= HAPPY

The sprinkles and the beans.

The sprinkles and the beans ground together.

I added a total of about 2.5 tablespoons of rainbow sprinkles to 1 cup of beans and ground them together on the coarsest setting for cold brew.  I then added an extra .5 tablespoons of whole sprinkles to the grounds JUST FOR FUN.  If we were going for taste, that was WAY too many sprinkles, considering the fact that they are almost purely sugar but I was having too much fun taking pictures, and a single tablespoon would not have been enough fun to photograph.

Above left is all the sprinkles and coffee ground together with that extra splash of sprinkles.  How fun does that look?!  Above right is everything mixed together with 3.5 cups of water.

I definitely used a nut milk bag AND a strainer to filter this out.

The remnant sprinkly grounds.

Like I said, all the sugar made the cold brew way too sweet for me to drink more than half of a cup.  I added my cashew & brazil nut milk and it tasted like sweet cream with a coffee aftertaste.  Too sweet for my blood, but that sweetness may be just what some of you want in your coffee.  If you're feeling adventurous or have some bleh coffee you need to spice up, try adding sprinkles (and let me know how it goes)!

If nothing else, I guarantee you'll have fun and the absurdity will leave you laughing, which is always good for the soul!

Happy brewing!

Aw, Nuts!

Remember that Juan Carlos coffee from Honduras that made such a delicious cold brew, when I was Winning at Home Cold-Brew Coffee-ing?

Well, I recently made it as a coffee concentrate with the same method I use to make regular cold brew, only I let it sit and brew for 24 hours instead of 12.  I planned to use that concentrate to make an iced latte with my new homemade Cashew & Brazil Nut Milk.  Yes, I made my own nut milk.

And no, Justine, I didn't stand there and squeeze the milk out of the tiny nut udders. ;-)

I got the idea from Ashley Tomlinson over at The Little Black Coffee Cup.  She writes about #ThingsThatGoWithCoffee, and one day she posted a simple recipe for this homemade, creamy nut milk that doesn't separate and goes great with cold brew coffee.  It was her beautiful photos paired with both my love for cold brew coffee and my recent failed attempts to avoid dairy that motivated me to try this.

First, I'm trying to avoid dairy because 1) as I enter the throes of adulthood, my body is slowly losing its ability to properly digest it and 2) I find that even though I can handle small doses of it, the long-term effects of constant consumption have been suspicious enough that I want to cut it out as much as I can (obviously I will still have cheese on occasion, because come on, cheese!).

Second, my attempts to avoid it have failed thus far because 1) I love coffee but 2) I can't drink too much black coffee due to its acidity and 3) it tastes so darn good with milk or cream that 4) all of the milk alternatives out there that I have tried either aren't creamy enough to satisfy me (coconut milk) or overpower the flavor of the coffee too much (coconut milk, almond milk, soy milk).  Also, a lot of store-bought nut milks have lots of preservatives, which are mostly not bad for you (other than carrageenan, which hardly anyone uses anymore anyway), but I still try to avoid them.

SO, because all of these years working as a barista and my intense desire to be healthy and cut out most processed foods have caused me to be so high-maintenance about my coffee and my diet, I embarked on the new adventure of making my own nut milks at home.

With the inexpensive nut milk bag I got on Amazon, it was incredibly easy to make (trust me, if a recipe has more than 5 ingredients or too many complicated steps, I am OUT), and even with our cheap but reliable blender, it turned out really well!  It really doesn't separate much (which was a huge relief because I tried making my own pecan milk a few months back which was tasty, but it separated so completely that it was a little unappetizing to look at), though it could use a good shake before enjoying.  After I added it to some cold brew, I noticed that over a period of time, there was a little separation, but nothing that a gentle swirl didn't take care of.  

It is incredible creamy and has a nice, naturally sweet nuttiness to it that delightfully complements coffee, possibly (dare I say it) even BETTER than cow's milk.  I tried all the experiments with this, and it is just as good with hot coffee as cold brew.  It pairs very well with espresso, and when steamed for a latte, it isn't quite as smooth as cow's milk, but holds up just as well as almond milk.

So, I was really excited to try a latte with my homemade nut milk and homemade cold brew concentrate.  But as it turns out, the oh-so-magical Juan Carlos is just so delicious even when it's brewed twice as strong as it usually is that I only needed to add a small amount of my nut milk to it to make it creamy.

You will notice some white flecks from the milk.
I think these would be eliminated with a better blender,
but even if not, they don't affect the taste!

 Yesterday, though, I used an inexpensive Guatemalan coffee that I've had sitting around in a Glad container for months to make a cold brew concentrate.  I mixed half of that concentrate with half of my fresh batch of Cashew & Brazil Nut Milk and goodness gracious, it was creamy coffee perfection!

Now my eyes have been opened to a whole new world of enjoying coffee.  My plan is to experiment with different types of nuts and combinations that might go well with coffee.  Stay tuned!

Whiskey + Coffee = {An Experiment}

Once upon a time, when I was still a green barista, I discovered a whiskey barrel-aged coffee.  Boston Stoker released a very small batch of an experiment they had conducted aging a Brazilian coffee in a whiskey barrel.

This is an old practice, dating back to the 17th century, but that was the first I had heard of it.  At the time, I didn't even like whiskey unless it was drowned in Coke (so that it didn't have that burning, wood feeling as it slid down my throat).  This coffee smelled delicious, though, so I tried it.  And it was delicious.  The Brazilian coffee had a well-rounded, chocolaty body, nutty notes, and just a hint of whiskey.  It was wonderful, and five years later I'm still raving about it.

After that, I slowly began to really taste and enjoy whiskey on its own.  Of course, I started with the sweet stuff, Wild Turkey American Honey (YUM), because it didn't have that harsh, burning-wood taste to it.  It was smooth and delicious, and I could sip it slowly on its own.  Gradually, I came to appreciate the milder, smoother bourbons, like those from Four Roses and Buffalo Trace.  For my birthday, I received a fantastic bottle of Eagle Rare from my in-laws (thanks again!) that I enjoy on those evenings when I don't have to be at work the next morning.

So when I caught wind that Dark Matter Coffee (whose espresso blend I wrote about here recently) was about to release four batches of different barrel-aged coffees, I knew I had to try one.  This was my chance to revisit that experience I had five years ago, now fully armed with a greater knowledge of and appreciation for both coffee and whiskey.

I chose the Guatemala Catuai Natural aged in a barrel from a Single Barrel Four Roses Bourbon.  Since I had tried a couple of Four Roses Bourbons, I knew I enjoyed their smooth sweetness.  (And, okay, I'm not going to lie, I LOVE roses and that, Shakespeare, is what's in the name.)

When I opened the bag of freshly roasted beans, I received a face-full of chocolate and whiskey.  It was lovely, but very overpowering.  I decided to let it sit for a day before brewing it.  The next day when I went to smell the beans, the whiskey woodiness was so potent, it was like sticking my face in the barrel itself.  

As the coffee brewed, the aroma of whiskey filled our tiny apartment.  I poured myself a little sip in my newly acquired and totally adorable hedgehog cup that I now use for sipping tastes of coffee and whiskey.

 I took a few sips to sift through the layers.  The whiskey aroma was strong and overpowering.  The body was very light and smooth, and the acidity was almost completely muted.  I tasted some very sweet, fruity notes that I enjoyed. . .until they were overpowered by the whiskey.  As the coffee cooled, it began to taste like wood. . . I took another sip and...yep, wood.  It tasted exactly like wood.

It was as if the coffee hadn't been able to stand up to the powers of the whiskey saturated wood surrounding it.  I decided that maybe if I let the coffee sit and off-gas for a few more days, it would settle and come into its own.  I tried it again today (about a week later), and the whiskey was a bit milder, but the coffee was still lost in the sea of whiskey.  And maybe it's because I've been watching a lot of Scrubs lately, but I got lost in this daydream:

Our brave coffee stands on a wooden plank above a stormy sea of whiskey.  It has been sentenced to death and shoved into a wooden barrel. The swords of enemy pirates poke and prod until the barrel rolls into the sea with a splash.  The entombed coffee rolls and fights against the waves until it succumbs to the force of the whiskey, and drowns slowly, down into the depths...The remains of the coffee are but a drop in the sea.

Whiskey is a good thing. . . in moderation.  It is delicious.  It takes the edge off of a rough day.  But in the morning, when I sit down to have a cup of coffee, I want to taste coffee.  Maybe I simply don't have the taste acquired yet for real, hardcore whiskey.  But I do have a taste for real, hardcore coffee, and I didn't taste nearly enough in this batch.

My theory, based on the limited knowledge I have of the process and the two barrel-aged coffees I have actually tried, is that this Guatemalan coffee simply did not have enough body to stand up against the waves of whiskey in that barrel resulting in a coffee that tasted like straight whiskey.  On the other hand, the Brazilian coffee from that original batch I tried had just the right amount of body so the result was a coffee with a hint of whiskey.

The moral of the story:

Dark Matter Coffee + 3 Floyds Beer = GOOD

Dark Matter Coffee + Four Roses Bourbon = I'D RATHER JUST HAVE THE WHISKEY, THANKS

Winning at Home Cold Brew Coffee-ing

Today, I woke up winning.

I made my cold brew for today yesterday so I wouldn't have to make any coffee on my day off.  And this particular batch of cold brew was de-licious.

One of the newest coffees we have at work is Boston Stoker's Juan Carlos Organic from Honduras, and I am in love with it.  Its notes of orange, blueberry and brown sugar create a smooth and sweet citrus crispness.  Its complexity makes me want to sing Katy Perry's "Firework" and shove a sample at every person who looks even remotely interested in coffee so we can love on it together.  I've been excited to try this one as a cold brew, especially now that I think I have perfected my home cold brew method.

After my last post, my husband bought me flowers

I think he likes me.

AND I discovered an important tidbit about my homemade cold brew.  I made another batch of Dark Matter's Unicorn Blood and let it chill for an hour or so before drinking it.  It was so much better than the last time when I added ice to the room temperature brew.  It brought out so much more of the coffee's sweetness that I had missed in my other brew methods.  Maybe this is a "duh" for most people, but whatever, sometimes I'm impatient and I don't want to wait for my coffee, especially after already waiting 12 hours.  In any case, now I know to plan my cold brewing better.

So yesterday when I got up before 4 am to get ready for work after about three hours of fitful sleep (during which I dreamed solely of coffee), I started a batch of cold brew with this new, magical Honduran coffee.  The beans were ground the day before (I don't think my husband or our neighbors would appreciate me grinding coffee at that unholy hour of the morning) so all I had to do was measure out the grounds with the appropriate amount of water into my handy-dandy cold-brewer (which is actually an old Budweiser beer pitcher that we have laying around--don't judge me; it works really well).

Around 5 or 6 pm, after the cold brew had been sitting for 13 or 14 hours and I had worked a full shift of barista-ing, taken a long nap, and had my own throwback 'N Sync jam-fest on my search for food, I went ahead and strained the coffee, and put it in a pitcher with a lid in the refrigerator.  It was waiting for me this morning when I needed it, and I tell you what, it was as magical as I hoped it would be.

The first sip danced and rolled around my tongue in a taste sensation.  Even after I swallowed it, I continued to taste the different layers of goodness that lingered.  In a coffee professional's terms, it was like a crisp, bright orange with a sweet blueberry syrup body and a brown sugar finish.  In my own personal terms, it was like a beautiful, sunny day at the beach, full of love and tacos, crashing waves and salty breezes.

Perfection.

All around, it was a win.  If you would like to be a winner too, check out my cold brew recipe below and make it your own!  Let me know how it goes, and hit me up with any questions, comments, or suggestions.  I don't know if you know this about me, but I love talking about coffee.

Happy brewing!

Easy Magically Delicious Homemade Cold Brew Coffee
*Note:  it looks more complicated than it is because I like to be thorough.  #sorrynotsorry

What you will need:

• 1 cup of your choice of coffee beans
• a coffee grinder
  (*Note:   If you don't have one at home, don't worry. You can usually take your beans to your local grocery store or non-pretentious coffee shop or wherever you bought them and ask nicely for them to grind your coffee for you on a coarse grind, like for a French Press.  I do this all the time at work for people who bought their coffee beans elsewhere, and it is not a problem at all.)
• 3 cups filtered room temperature water
  (*Note: The water doesn't have to be filtered, but it definitely helps, especially if your city's water is as terrible as mine is. The room temperature thing is vital though, because if the water is too hot or too cold, it can cause the coffee to taste bitter or harsh.  I just keep a gallon jug of drinking water handy on the counter so it's there at the right temperature when I need it.)
• a pitcher or container of some sort large enough to hold at least 6 cups  (*Note:  A glass container like a mason jar might be better than a plastic one taste-wise, but I use what I have available, which is an old, plastic beer pitcher.  I also recommend something with a spout so that you don't end up with a splashy coffee-ground mess when filtering the coffee.)
• a lid or something to cover the above container (I use plastic wrap and a rubber band)
• a spatula or wooden spoon or something to stir with
• a kitchen strainer and/or some cheesecloth or nut milk bag
• (*Note:  I just use a standard metal kitchen strainer because I don't mind a few stray grounds in my coffee--I consider it a bonus!  If that bothers you, I suggest using cheesecloth or a nut milk bag to help catch the smaller ground particles.)
• a pitcher or container with a lid to store the coffee in the refrigerator (I got a cheap quart-sized Rubbermaid pitcher for 3 bucks at Meijer.)

What you will need to do:

1.  Grind 1 cup of your choice of coffee beans on a coarse grind and dump the coffee grounds into your container of choice.
2.  Add 3 cups of room temperature water and stir for about 10-30 seconds.
3.  Cover the container and let the concoction sit at room temperature for about 12 hours.
(*Note:  Keep your sitting cold brew away from excessive light or heat--like windows and stoves.  ALSO, 12 hours is relative. I let mine sit for 12-14 hours, depending on what I have going on. I wouldn't let it sit much longer than 14, though, or you will end up with more of a concentrate.  However, if a concentrate is what you're going for, I recommend letting it sit for 24 hours.  I haven't experimented with concentrates yet, though, so I don't have much advice on the subject beyond that. . .)
4.  After 12ish hours, remove the lid and give the coffee a little stir to loosen the coffee grounds.
5.  Set your strainer (and/or cheesecloth/nut milk bag) over the opening of the pitcher or container you plan to store your coffee in.
6.  Slowly pour the coffee through the strainer into the pitcher.
(*Note:  If you can manage it, it helps sometimes to use your spoon/spatula to hold back the coffee grounds and let more liquid come through so your strainer doesn't get overloaded with grounds and your counter doesn't get covered in coffee splatter.)
7.  Put the lid on the pitcher and let sit in the refrigerator for at least an hour.
8.  Enjoy within 3 days for best flavor (will technically last a week or so).

Yields:  about 16 oz (2 cups) of magically delicious cold brewed coffee.
*You can easily make more, just make sure you keep your coffee to water ratio at 1:3 and have a big enough container to hold the coffee and the water with at least about an inch of room at the top so the coffee can breathe.  Otherwise, it will overflow like a volcano.

In Lieu of Flowers

"Some husbands buy their wives flowers," mine said when he came home from work one day carrying a brown paper bag, "but I got you this."

I excitedly opened the bag, wondering what kind of funky, rare beer he found for me that day.  He does that sometimes.  For the first birthday I had while we were dating, he bought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a growler (a 64 ounce jug) of a delicious beer.  I knew he was a keeper.  Over the years, he has alternated surprising me with flowers and unique beers that I would like.  He knows me so well.

 As I opened the bag, I could tell right away that it was a Three Floyds (an extremely popular brewery out of Indiana that our grocery store only gets small, rare shipments of.  They are so popular that their followers can practically smell the shipments as they arrive so these beers rarely sit on the shelves for long.).  He told me to ignore the picture on the label (rightly so, because it was a disturbing image of people's brains exploding. . .but the funky, creative artwork is fitting for Three Floyds' funky, creative concoctions) and just read the name and description.  I saw the words "Coffee Stout" and I hugged him, because beer and coffee are two of my favorite things, and if you put them together for me, I will hug you.

I've had many coffee beers in my day, but my first was still my favorite:  Schlafly's Coffee Stout.  Schlafly is a small brewery in St. Louis with a small, local, family-feel that I fell in love with when I visited a few years ago.  Their Coffee Stout is brewed with coffee from Kaldi's, a small St. Louis roaster.  The French roasted coffee brewed with the rich, dark stout was the perfect, magical blend of coffee and beer, my first experience of two of my favorite things in one bottle:  liquid happiness.

Since then, I have tasted many coffee beers.  Most of them have been good, but none have tasted quite like that Schlafly Coffee Stout (*side-note* this goes for pumpkin beers, as well.  I have tried a lot of pumpkin beers, but Schlafly's Pumpkin Ale is the BEST bottled pumpkin beer I have ever had.  It is the perfect blend of sweet and spicy, pumpkin and ale.  Nom.).  A lot of coffee beers are unbalanced and sloppy tasting, with either the coffee or the beer overpowering the drink, but Schlafly provides a great balance.  It is the standard to which I hold all coffee beers, and this Three Floyds Wig Splitter was no exception.

The description on the bottle stated that this is "an oatmeal stout brewed with freshly ground espresso for those of us who like a little beer with their coffee or a little bit of coffee with their beer."  Grammatical inconsistency aside (the sentence shifts from first person to third person--"those of us who like... their coffee"--don't get me started on the frustrating rise of grammatical laziness in professional business writing! Or do get me started and hire me to be your editor.), this descriptor set a high bar that most coffee beers don't reach.  It boldly proclaimed that it would be adequately balanced between coffee and beer.  And you know what?  It was.

This brew was deliciously balanced so that the flavors of coffee and beer worked seamlessly to create something beautiful. The espresso that Three Floyds used actually brightened the stout and gave the brew a delicately crisp acidity that danced on my tongue in a way that forces me to rank this coffee stout up there with Schlafly's. Because Schlafly uses a dark, French roast coffee to deepen the richness of the stout, where Three Floyds uses an espresso to brighten it, I declare them equal, but different.

After making my assessment of this beer, I was determined to try the espresso that was used in the brewing.  A little detective work by my husband revealed the winner as Unicorn Blood, an espresso blend by Dark Matter Coffee out of Chicago.  I promptly ordered myself a bag and spent my time waiting for my freshly roasted beans to arrive in the mail by acquainting myself with the coffee company via their website.

Like Three Floyds, Dark Matter Coffee is known for creating funky, unique blends.  They are committed to great coffee, but they are also committed to creativity, instead of the typical stoic, black-and-white approach that many seriously scientific coffee companies take these days. The fact that their espresso blend is called Unicorn Blood, for example, is simply awesome.  In the Harry Potter world, unicorn blood is known for its magic healing properties, that it can save a person who drinks it even if they are a breath away from death.  Isn't that how we all feel about our morning coffee?!

And come on, check out this bag:

IT'S A UNICORN PRANCING IN A PORTAFILTER.

I wasn't able to try this coffee as espresso, but I tried it both hot and cold brewed.  I expected it to be sweeter than it was (maybe because of the sweet, happy face of this unicorn prancing around in a portafilter), but it was nutty and fun, kind of like this whole absurd experiment.

In any case, I enjoyed tasting these creative coffee concoctions.  And if you learned nothing else from this post, let it be a lesson as the adult version of the children's book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie:

If you give your wife a coffee beer...she'll spend a week analyzing it and the coffee used to brew it so she can write a long, rambly blog post about it, complete with pictures.

Thank you, and you're welcome.

The Fear

These days have been bored and restless.  The silhouette of the next thing is on the horizon, creeping closer.  It's not close enough yet that we can make it out, but it's coming.

The waiting leaves me restless, itching for something substantial to hold onto, wasting my summer watching Netflix because it's easier to get caught up in a silly TV show about beautiful people and their fake lives than to get caught up in my own.

Fear keeps me from opening up my heart to fully love and live right where I am.  I fear that there is something more that I should be doing.  I fear what that might be.  I fear, perhaps most of all, that it will keep us here.  I fear stepping out of the comfortable (even if the comfortable is slightly miserable).

Recently I re-read Kisses from Katie, the story of an ordinary young woman who stepped out of the comfortable to follow God's will for her life and is accomplishing truly amazing things in Uganda.  (I read it a few years ago, and wrote about my thoughts on it here.)  I am a different person than I was three years ago when I first read it, but I was no less convicted.  If anything, this time when I read it, my perspective was less sentimental and more realistic.  I saw how ordinary and imperfect Katie is, how all she accomplished was simply a result of her openness to God and letting Him work through her to reach other people.  I want to be that open, that trusting.

The funny thing is that I think I would be willing to drop everything and follow Him, but I can't for the life of me figure out where He wants me to go.  Which is why I have the sinking feeling that perhaps, at least for awhile longer, He wants me to stay right where I am.  Which scares me more than a disease-ridden Third World country.  The fear paralyzes me so that all I can do is click "Watch Next Episode" on Netflix.

Praise the Lord for the priest at Mass this past week.  He reinforced the message I received reading Katie's story by encouraging us to make Christ the center of our lives and let God interrupt our plans.  He reminded us that in our dark world, we the Christ-followers must be the light--of love, patience, peace. When he led us in song at the end of his homily, I felt the Spirit moving in me.

My heart knew the answers I was looking for:  that the restlessness comes from not being present in the moment.  Yes, maybe God wants me to go on and do great things, but how can I trust in the big things if I can't trust in the little things?

A big lesson Katie learned in Uganda faced with seemingly unending poverty, hunger, and sickness was that all she could do was help the one in front of her, and trust that God would take care of the rest until she or someone else came to help them too.  Her actions created a ripple effect that inspired many more people to reach out and help those in need in Uganda.  God is using her as a voice to cry out in the wilderness, to open the eyes of the body of Christ to the need, to call those of us who make up Christ's hands and feet to action.  All she did was help the person in front of her.

I can do that at work.  I can keep my focus on the customer in front of me and patiently serve them to the best of my ability without being overwhelmed by the long line of caffeine-hungry people behind them.  I can be positive at work and let the little annoyances go (even if in the last five minutes of a long shift I have to deal with a difficult customer who continues to test my patience and ask a lot more of me than I have the energy to give).  I can listen to people even when I have less than zero interest in what they are saying--sometimes people just need to talk.  I can bite my tongue against complaints and decisions I disagree with.  I can love one person at a time.  I can be a light.

Over the years, this blog has carried this theme, of how to love God while being a barista.  You would think that the message would have sunk in by now, but I tend to need constant reminders.

When I stepped down from management nine months ago, I experienced great relief and necessary detox from the stress of the previous two and a half years.  I rediscovered my love for both coffee and people, but eventually, when the people became too difficult to handle, I turned my focus to the coffee.  However, I found that if I wanted to pursue coffee as a career and succeed, it would have to become in some ways a god.  But I already have a God, and I love Him.  A lot.

I never imagined that I would still be here after so long, that I would still need these reminders, but here I am.  Imperfect.  Afraid.  I let the fear in, and it began to consume me, but by His grace I have been saved once again from myself.

Maybe God wants me to go out into the world and do great things, but I will never have the strength if I haven't fully abandoned myself to Him, if I don't fully trust Him in everything.  I will never be able to follow Him along great distances in the future if I can't follow Him right now.

Here I am, Lord.

Coffee Talk

"Coffee coffee coffee..."  

This slightly manic phrase is one my husband hears often--sometimes in the early morning while I fix myself a cup (okay, half of a pot) so that I can transform from "half-asleep zombie" to "functioning human being," but really at any time of day when I nerd out with Barista Magazine or crush on a coffee shop in another city via social media (have you seen this La Marzocco showroom in Seattle???), or salivate over a new offering from a favorite roaster.

What can I say?  I want to taste all the coffees.

Coffee is my friend.  It doesn't always get along well with my stomach, but my taste buds, my head, my heart, and my soul all welcome it with gladness and joy.  

For that reason, when I was new to specialty coffee, I was personally offended when my favorite coffees would go away for long periods of time.  Why would they leave me like that?!  You may have had a similar reaction when your favorite coffee suddenly disappeared from the offerings at your favorite coffee shop.  Or, maybe you aren't as personally attached to your coffee as I am. . .

Either way, it isn't our fault that our favorite coffees leave.  They leave because coffee is a produce. Like apples.  Each region where coffee is grown has its own harvest season.  Most specialty coffee shops only buy the freshest, in-season beans, so that they can provide us with the freshest, most flavorful cups of coffee possible.

I appreciate that.

What I didn't appreciate when I first entered the specialty coffee world was that when my beloved Ethiopian Yirgacheffe (my first specialty coffee friend--i.e. the first light roasted, single origin coffee I tried, and my first pour over) with the depths of its blueberry smoothness and crisp lemony goodness disappeared and returned after months of separation tasted like a completely different coffee, very floral, more earthy, less smooth or sweet.

While I originally considered this new Yirgacheffe to be a traitorous impostor, I eventually learned that this is simply one of the beautiful things of being a coffee lover.  There are so many factors that influence what a coffee will taste like (even if the processing and roasting remain completely constant, a little extra rain or a little extra sun during growing season can change everything), that the same coffee rarely (if ever) tastes exactly the same as it did last year.  It's sad that we can't keep our most favorite coffee-friends around us all the time, but it's exciting and downright fascinating to try new coffees, and taste the differences in various harvests of our favorites.

That said, it's always interesting comparing coffees from different regions too.  Each coffee-growing region has a specific characteristic that tends to define it.  African coffees, for instance, tend to be fruity and funky.  Coffees from near Indonesia tend to have more body and earthy tones.  Crisp acidity and light chocolate notes are common among Central/South American coffees.  (There's A LOT more to this, and I won't keep going on about it here, but if you are interested in learning more, a really fun book to introduce you to specialty coffee is Coffee Nerd, by Ruth Brown.  I got a kick out of it and learned some things too!)

Typically, coffees from Africa, Kenya specifically, are hit or miss with me.  I appreciate their funky flavor, but the lack of acidity makes it fall flat for me.  On the other hand, I enjoy the acidity of Central/South American coffees, but they tend to be too boring.  So when I learned that Counter Culture had a special limited release coffee that married the two--a Kenyan varietal grown in the rich soil of El Salvador--I really nerded out.  

There is so much to learn about coffee, and while I understand pretty well the differences by region and climate, I am still working on discerning the differences between varietals.  Obviously, I had to get this coffee. . .you know, for educational purposes. . .

Counter Culture Coffee's Finca Kilimanjaro is said to have "deep, sweet notes of clementine and tropical fruits with a syrupy sweet finish."  I didn't have an opportunity to cup this coffee, so I'm going off of the pour over version.  To be honest, I expected much more sweetness than I tasted.  It definitely has the same syrupy sweetness and thick mouth-feel as other coffees I've tried from El Salvador have.  But the fruity notes are almost so deep that all I taste is the earthiness.  Whatever the case, its deliciousness and incredible quality reminded me of a Geisha that I tried years ago.

The deliciousness that is Counter Culture's Finca Kilimanjaro.

What I learned the most from tasting it, though, is that I have not paid nearly enough attention to all the coffees I have tried over the years.  I typically gloss over what variety the coffee is, and look just at the country and/or farm of origin.  My approach to new coffees will now never be the same.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading about this coffee on Counter Culture's website to get a better understanding of where the coffee came from, how it was grown and processed, the mindset of the farmer, the reactions of the buyers when they tasted it.  It's one of the great joys of working in coffee--stories are always brewing, and not only do we get to be a part of them, we get to taste them.

Which is really great for me, because I want to taste ALL THE COFFEES.

Monday Morning Musings

Life has been getting me down more often than not lately, but I've been doing a lot of much needed reading and reflection.  (I recently re-read St. Therese's Story of a Soul, and for Advent I am re-reading Consoling the Heart of Jesus by Father Michael Gaitley .  I *highly* recommend them both!)

The last two weeks have just not been good, and I needed a new one.  I was so thankful as I walked to work in the angry, gusting wind this Monday morning that it was a new day and a new week and I could start fresh.  And that even though it was mid-December I only needed a light jacket!

The first thing I saw when I got to the coffee bar was a note from an old co-worker and dear friend, who must have visited the store the night before and couldn't leave without leaving her love.  As is her way.  I was so warm and light inside knowing that even though the time and place are gone for good, there is still so much love in the club.

The morning was going smoothly until my first customer rubbed me the wrong way.  Yes, I know that I should know better than to let half-sleeping people get to me so early in the day, but it happens.  And it stirred up feelings of frustration and anger at how rude, inconsiderate, and thoughtless people can be.  

I prayed, "Lord, how am I supposed to love this?  This behavior hurts my pride.  It's inhumane.  How do I just smile and not let this get to me?  Surely you don't want me to simply ignore this injustice?"

Jesus' face came to mind, sweaty and bloody as he hung on the cross.  He tried to answer me with his voice but all he could do in his pain was gasp for breath, and then I didn't need an answer--grace intervened to make it clear:  He is in pain too.  And there's something I can do about it.

As a kid in a Catholic home, I very often heard the phrase, "offer it up" when life's injustice's hurt me.  All that meant to me as a kid though, was that I should "suck it up" because my problems weren't real problems in the grand scheme of things.  

What it really means to "offer it up," is to offer up my pain--of inconsideration, of other people's ignorance, of humiliation, of biting back snarky replies, of silencing my complaints, of keeping my gossipy observations to myself--

in union with Jesus' pain--of his passion, of rejection, of betrayal, of sin.  

It's the same as sitting with a friend when they are hurting.  You can't take away their pain, but you can sit with them and console them to help lighten their load.

When we offer up our suffering in union with Christ's, these sacrifices made in love, console Him.  This opens His Heart and allows the rays of His Love and Mercy to shine through us.

As St. Therese said, "To pick up a pin for love can convert a soul."  It's these little acts that, done with the eyes of our hearts fixed on Jesus, become acts of love and make all the difference.  

So at work, I displayed cookies with love, and brewed coffee with love, and cleaned up sweet, sticky messes with love, and listened patiently to things that I had less than zero interest in with love.  Another customer annoyed me and I took a moment to breathe in my frustration, prayed that Jesus transform it, and breathed out His Mercy with love.

Feeling full of love, I drank my coffee like I did in the old days before I gave up (*read as: tried to give up) dairy: in a ceramic mug with some good old  whole milk.  My hope was that even though it might upset my stomach, the vitamin D in the milk might help make up for my current state of D-deficiency due to lack of sunshine.

It was delicious, but the fact remains that I am highly dependent on the sunshine for my happiness. (Note, "happiness," not "joy."  There's a difference.)

These last few days have been gloomy and overcast, but warmer than usual for December.  Saturday felt very much like it did when I was in Seattle last October.  I loved Seattle and Portland, and every bit of the Pacific Northwest that I saw.  It's gloomy a lot there too, but at least it's near the coast where the ocean is a constant reminder that there is a whole world out there beyond the gloom.  Here in Ohio, we're landlocked, and rather than rain clouds, we have whitish, grayish blankets of clouds that cover us for days to the point that I begin to feel claustrophobic.

Anyway, my coffee tasted like sunshine this morning, and after a few hours of rain, the dark lumpy clouds stretched apart just enough so that the light caught our eyes and we looked out the window, barely believing that it could be real, and yet...there..."stupid cloud, move over just a little bit more"...there it was...THE SUN!

Thank You, Jesus.  For everything.

So Much Love In The Club

It was an identity crisis--were we baristas or...something else?  We weren't sure, so she cried out in a half-joking way, "Is there anyone here who can tell me what coffee is all about?"

And in classic Linus fashion, the answer came: "Sure, I can tell you what coffee is all about:  It's about love."

You may think I'm crazy for saying that, but hear me out.

Coffee is all about the people--the people who grow coffee, the people who harvest it, the people who sell it, the people who buy it, the people who roast it, the people who brew it, the people who drink it, and all the people in-between. 

In my time as a barista,  I've known some that truly warmed me inside and out with their funky, hearty characters--and that goes for both people and coffees!

 New crops of new coffees came in every few months, and so, it seemed, did new people.  We once built a graveyard display for Halloween of all the coffees we'd loved that never returned to satisfy our longing taste buds.  I never saw many of those coffees again, but new coffees came along to expand my palate, to teach me to experience coffee in new ways.  Similarly, I never see some of the people who built that display with me anymore, but new people came along to expand my heart, to teach me to love in new ways.

Today is National Coffee Day, and this week marks four and a half years of me making coffee from this coffee company.  A LOT has changed in that time--people, coffees, structures, machines, uniforms, products, policies, I got married, etc., but this week I returned back to the basics:  no more orders and schedules, I'm just making coffee.

To make this move,  I had to say goodbye to some people who I've grown close to, but that is nothing new to me.  It seems that in the last 13 months especially, I've said goodbye to so many.  I miss them all in different ways, but I'm a better person for having known each of them, and they each hold a special place in my heart.  

All of these people have come to me because of coffee.  We became a family of co-workers, of customers, a community who shared more than cups of coffee, but cups overflowing with love.

I've said this before and I'll say it again:

Every cup is a communion.

To all the generations of my dear barista family and all the customer-friends we've collected over the years:

I always believed but I never really knew until I met you that coffee really is all about love.  Thank you for filling my heart and my cup.

Just a few generations of coffee-family. #somuchloveintheclub

A Glimpse of Spring

“…you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning.  Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. . .Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.  But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.  When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. . ."*

Every year it’s the same story—the earth dies, and rises again to new life in the spring.  The soul follows the same pattern. 

To be honest, it gets old after a while.  Year after year, you’re cruising along and everything is great and then the holidays come around and they should be enjoyable but they’re just stressful and then they’re over and you think you can breathe a sigh of relief and start fresh with the new year, but the new year is full of its own challenges and changes and bitterly cold days and snowy mornings and snowy evenings and salt-covered shoes that lead to salt-covered floors and sickness here and there and then here again because your stress is so high that your immunity is shot to hell and you know spring is just around the corner, and finally it’s the first of March, and still you drive to work through four inches of snow and ice and wonder why you are risking your life for coffee, because that’s what you do for a living, you make coffee.

Then one fine day, the weathermen say it’s going to start warming up tomorrow, and your wedding present has arrived from Denmark—a coffee maker, the finest in the world, proven to produce a nearly perfect cup of coffee every time.  Suddenly you see yourself ten, twenty, thirty years from now brewing coffee with this same coffee maker and sitting across from the man who loves you even when you go off in a hangry rage at Wal-mart because the brooms aren’t where you think they should be and you didn’t eat enough for breakfast.

As you sit in the parking lot of Home Depot nomming on your filets o’fish and he watches you with skeptical eyes, willing your body to accept this food so that you don’t go into a hangry rage inside Home Depot too, you realize that it’s not as warm out as the weathermen said it would be, and you aren’t surprised because it never snowed when they said it would and always snowed when they said it wouldn’t, but you know that when the snow does melt, you’ll be better.  Because every year, it’s true.  It’s never perfect, but it’s always better in the spring (and the summer, and the fall).

Just when the weary soul can’t take much more of the constant reaching and hoping for a glimpse of spring, it comes.

It comes on a ray of sunshine from the east, down the street and to my right it shines its light on the cold pavement, causes the dumpy leftover piles of snow to bleed into the street and pool puddles of mud on the sidewalks.  The trees are bare but still, and from one nearby comes the soft chirping song of a bird.  It isn’t snowing.  The sky isn’t a depressing canvas of gray.  The muddied grass mirrors the weathered and worn soul, but it is green enough that one truth pervades--

spring is coming.

“In those days though, the spring always came finally, but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.”*

*A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway

Snow Glow

It's as if my life has been made up of a whole bunch of different compartments of sh. . .stuff I have to deal with.  Like time was moving me neatly from one compartment to the next, and I dealt with each one the best I could then moved on.

Then I flew across the country, to the side I'd never been to.  The grass was definitely much greener there, the trees taller, the mountains higher (obviously, since we don't exactly have any here), the people nicer, the coffee better, the food tastier, life slower. 

Out of my comfort zone I stretched and reached and dreamed for things I never dared consider from my bubble.  The world was bigger, brighter.  The light shone differently so that things that were once in shadows were now in the light.

Sunday morning sunshine in Portland.

The best thing I brought home was not, in fact, the t-shirt with the pine tree on the front (although that is pretty fantastic) but a new perspective and a renewed mind.  I am so thankful for the opportunity and the experiences I had!

Especially considering the fact that shortly after I arrived home, all of the compartments of stuff I had to deal with decided to collide.

I suppose it's just another side-effect of Adulthood, that the to-do lists only become longer and more detailed, that for every item you check off, three take its place.  Or perhaps it's simply the fact that practically everything in my life has been in the process of changing since this past April when I moved out of my parents house and my dear work friends told me they were moving away, followed by my engagement in May, followed by the decision in June that I would keep my position at work but switch companies, followed by all of the changes and absurdities that go along with keeping your same job but switching companies, management, and teammates in July, followed by painful goodbyes in August, followed by a month of mourning and adjusting in September, followed by my first ever business trip in October, and now here we are, knee-deep in marriage prep and snow, just in time for the holidays.

It's been a busy year, busier than I realized.  And I don't see it slowing down in the near future.  But at least I have a slightly better grasp on my sanity than I did even a week ago.  I'm learning to roll with the punches, to not over-think things too much, to leave work at work, to enjoy the little things about these crazy days of my entrance into Adulthood.

It's so the little things.  Like my car battery dying on my day off instead of on a morning when I had to be at work at 5:45 in the morning.  Like the sun sneaking its light through the crack in my curtains to form a perfectly golden exclamation point on my wall.  Like the ridiculous beauty of this early onset of winter in the Ohio Valley.  

Yes, I think I am just going to surrender everything and let this glorious sunlight melt the cold bitterness in my soul.  

Death By Mocha

Happy National Coffee Day!!!

After a morning of  making countless $1 Pumpkin Spice Lattes, you might think that I wouldn't want to spend my afternoon writing about it.  HOWEVER, I drank a PSL myself and have that caffeine and sugar coursing through my veins and sparking inspiration all up in my heart and soul.

I came home and finally looked up this 20/20 story my mom has been telling me about, about baristas and the horrible things they do to people's drinks.  I found it fascinating.  I can relate to these bitter baristas.  In fact, just yesterday I had a moment of understanding as I realized the reason we get so frustrated with customers and they get so frustrated with us is that we are not speaking the same language.

The language we speak is that of well-trained and experienced baristas.  We know where these coffees come from, the altitude at which they are grown, the anatomy of a coffee plant, the names of the farmers who grow it, how the coffees are processed, what each step in the process entails, and what each step means for how that coffee will ultimately taste when we brew it, not to mention what all the variables are in the brewing process and how they affect the taste of the coffee.

The language our customers speak, on the other hand, is often (not always, but often) a twisted mess of coffee terms made popular by places from McDonald's to Starbucks to Intelligentsia.   They often know only that they need something to wake them up, or that they like caramel frappes, or that they hate coffee and want a coffee drink that doesn't taste like coffee.

The biggest challenge of our jobs as baristas is to pick through and translate the layers of this language in order to discern the unique palates of our many customers so that we can find the right drink for them--all in the most fast-paced, efficient, and pleasant way possible.

In general, baristas are grossly underpaid and undervalued for these intricate skills.  This only causes more bitterness and frustration as they attempt to read their customers minds, create personalized, handcrafted beverages, and navigate the crowds of zombie-like people dying for their daily caffeine fix on their way to work and school--all before 8 am.

In the 20/20 interview, the baristas spoke of decaffeinating rude people's coffee, or adding extra charges to their drinks.  I understand the desire to do these things--it's extremely tempting sometimes!  As anyone who has ever worked in customer service will tell you, people can be downright nasty.  It can be very disheartening, especially for those of us with the determined Anne Frank-attitude to see the good in humanity.

Thankfully, there are plenty of really wonderful people we encounter every day too!  These wonderful souls of grace who very clearly recognize us not as machines but as humans like themselves, are often what get us through the seemingly never-ending days.

I actually started writing a coffee shop musical back in college, based on my experiences.  It was a sad little story line, but this video beautifully portrays (*minus the bit of vulgarity*) the plight of the modern barista, set to a familiar musical:




What stuck out to me most was their question "When will I be redeemed?"

Well, here's what I've learned:  they have already been redeemed.  We all have.  It's a matter of accepting the sacrifice that paid our way out of this "hell" we're living.

We can't always change our situation (especially in this economy) and land our dream jobs right out of college (or even four years out of college), and in the meantime, we have to pay rent somehow.  We can't change how people act towards us, but we can change how we act toward them.  Instead of being the pretentious coffee know-it-alls we are stereotyped to be, we can adopt a servant's heart.

We can serve coffee with genuine joy and love.  We can be kind even to the rudest customers (you never know what horrible experiences someone might be going through!).  We can swallow our own opinions of what makes a good coffee and instead maintain the attitude that everyone has different tastes.

I have worked in coffee for 6 years, which is 4 more than I ever anticipated (trust me, I never anticipated being in management, but here I am).  As a whole, I have loved my experiences.  I love the people that I've met, the skills and knowledge that I've gained, the free coffee I've been allowed to drink, and even the work itself.  It's fun!  Some days I look around in gratitude and shake my head in wonder thinking, "They actually pay me to do this!"

Other days though, I shake my head thinking, "There is not enough money in the world. . ."  I find myself struggling through the daily grind to be happy and nice to people when I just want to sit in a corner and be angry and frustrated.  I get so tired (the kind of tired that is beyond caffeine's reach) of  being outgoing (I'm an extreme introvert) on a daily basis and being up for hours before the sun.  It's these days that make me ask the question:  what am I even doing here?

What I have come to understand through it all, is that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.  In all my vain attempts to get out, I still sought God's will for my life.  My ultimate goal, after all, is not a successful career, but holiness.  God gave me glimpses of what may lay ahead, and with those glimpses, reminders that as much as I want to be, I am not ready for the next step.

Even though I have days where I curse the ground I work on (by the way, we actually call the ground we work on the IBG, because we believe our bar was built on an Indian burial ground), and want to cry at the sad state of humanity, and then I spill brown mocha powder all over my black pants, I believe it is all part of the process. It is part of growing up, yes, but most importantly, a part of being humbled, of dying to myself.

If we are to be redeemed, we must first die to ourselves, so that we may rise again with Christ:

And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. [Luke 9: 23-24)

The particular slow and painful death God has chosen for me just happens to be death by mocha.

I still fail and fall frequently, but I am reminded over and over again of His redeeming love, mercy, and faithfulness.  I encourage you, wherever you are, to accept your form of "death" as the grace to participate in the fullness of your redemption.  It's all we can do, really.

But in the meantime, we'll do some of this too:

Shelby's Last Latte