Stephen, my Barista

I have always had an aversion to coffee.  But over the last couple of months, the taste has been increasingly growing on me.  Last time our good friend Matt brought over a pound of free Starbucks coffee, it smelled so good I simply had to try it.  Due to my extreme lack of sleep, I could use the additional boost in the mornings anyway, I rationalized.  To my amazement, when Stephen brewed up a pot and poured a little coffee into my sugar and creamer, I fell in love with the blend.

But this morning, as I pulled out my Bible and journal and prepared to spend some time with God, I asked Stephen if he had made the coffee yet.  He was catching up on e-mails.  He nodded the affirmative and I smiled in anticipation. 

A few minutes later, Stephen placed my mug in front of me.   I looked down at it and suddenly realized that I would be totally lost without Stephen.  He fixes my coffee every morning and hands it to me with just the right amount of everything in it.  I have no idea what those proportions are. And although I know I could just ask him to show me, I am not entirely certain that I want him to divulge exactly how much cream and sugar he pours into my coffee every morning.  But they say ignorance is bliss.  I think it’s also bliss when a woman has a husband who fixes her coffee each morning with such joy.  And mine sure does.


2 responses to this post.

  1. Sweetie!
    You humble me. You make me sound like a lot better than I truly am. I think your love for me blinds you from many failures and faults! I love you and am looking forward to seeing you tonight!


  2. Sister, coffee is real good. Drink it all the time.
    Love, Sister.


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