Romans 5:6

Love, even if it hurts - Jesus Christ

Nov 13, 2009

Adventures of coffee

I love coffee, in fact I love the feeling I get when I drink coffee, especially on a cold day. Is there anything better than sitting on a porch hearing the cold rain beat helplessly on the roof while drinking a hot cup of smooth caffeinated beverage? The coffee almost acts as a protective ward against the cold as if it was the cold itself you are fighting against. When you are frigid and icy, drink a warm soothing coffee and feel the spidery web of heat and comfort spread throughout your ice clogged pipelines piercing every crook and cranny in your body. Feel the furnace of contentment hitch on your internal subway system bringing with it the satisfaction of energy and renewed purpose to all your cells.

I remember when I was a child attending bible camp up in the high Sierra Nevada’s, I loved the mornings. The dew covered everything like frosted icing, capturing trees and benches in its magical spell. I remember waking up and seeing my own breath escaping from the cracks of my sleeping bag like a dragon’s breathe billowing from a deep cave below the earth. If I got out of bed I believed that the cold would get me and all the warmth I had worked all night to accumulate would all be lost on the frozen tundra of the morning. Putting my fear aside I leaped from my bunk and as quickly as could I gather all my warm clothing and wrapped them around me like a protective cloak against the bitter winter chill I knew was awaiting for me outside the door. Slowly I walked from the cabin to the cafeteria, capturing as much as I could of the wintry scenery being laid down before me. When I entered the building I saw several adults standing around a mystical, power enduing liquid dispenser that they couldn’t seem to pull themselves away from. I, being the young intrepid boy, was too embarrassed to enter their fellowship, so I stood in the shadows and waited for the warmth to return to me. However, as silent as I tried to be one woman saw me alone on the bench shivering in my 13 layers of thanksgiving patterned sweaters, my step dads XX2 long sleeve shirts, old sweats and my long johns, she gathered me under her arms and ushered me into the magical ring of adults. Though I could hear the laughing being held under their breath I was more entranced by the container on the table. What is? What does it taste like? Nasty, bitter, sweet, tasty? Will it is give me bad breath or make me smell better? I didn’t feel the cup that she pushed into my hands, I didn’t feel here push the cup to my lips and spill the contents into my open mouth. However, I felt, no I experienced the taste of my first cup of warm, delicate, delicious coffee. I could feel my insides begin to waken and turn, I could hear the motors in my head begin to spin and whirl and forever after that moment I knew nothing would ever be the same.

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