Thoughts on Coffee

I’m addicted to coffee.

Or rather the combination of coffee, cream and sugar. Iced Vanilla Coffee with Cream, Large, to be exact. (I refuse to say Venti. It’s too hard to remember, and besides, I don’t speak Italian.)

Of course, coffee is one of the more acceptable addictions. It doesn’t impair my ability to drive or make decisions or cause me to be mean or miss out on obligations and promises. It does, however, take up a ridiculous amount of my brain space — planning when I will have my next cup. Dreaming of it. Setting my day by it.

Today I am drinking my favorite drink at Starbucks, and I have been thinking about this drink for several days now. WHAT??!?!!? Doesn’t that sound crazy? How could 16 ounces of liquid rule so much of my world? (I desperately wanted to order the 24 ounce, but refrained.)

I go back and forth, wishing I could drink as much coffee as I wanted to without feeling guilty. And sometimes I feel like “I should be able to drink coffee without worrying about it, damn it!”

(I don’t’ really say “Damn it!,” but that’s essentially the emotion behind it.)

But there are a couple practical factors that should limit my intake, like the fact that too much will contribute to gaining weight. I am one of those lucky ones who never really had to worry about that, but as I get older, it is a little harder to keep those extra five pounds off, and I’m sure if I drank unlimited amounts of coffee (with sugar), I’d struggle even more. Another factor that limits my intake is fertility. Both caffeine and sugar aren’t good for it, and we would still like to have one more child if we can. And finally, coffee can get expensive if you’re stopping at Starbucks every day.

Aside from the practical factors, the spiritual one is a million times more important — my need to comfort myself and put something that should be a small blessing in my day on such a pedestal in my life.

I don’t desire God the way I desire coffee.

(My eyes well up with tears as I write that. Putting it on paper makes it feel more real.)

So, do I give coffee up entirely? If I was an alcoholic, the best thing to do would be to give up alcohol entirely…

Here’s what I’m trying today. I wrote a coffee liturgy – basically a prayer of thankfulness to practice each time I enjoy coffee. I’m hoping that by acknowledging my need for God and thanking him for the gift He has given in simple pleasures of our taste buds and the positive things it does in our brain, will help me put Him back on the pedestal over my coffee.

I know that with any addiction, God doesn’t usually give radical deliverance from it. One of the best talks I heard about it (from Sharon Hersh) was that God is way more likely to use our addictions to remind us that we are in continual need of dependence on him.

And so, today I am trying to be mindful of His goodness to provide good gifts, and to work to keep the importance of the Giver far above the gift itself. I really don’t know if this is just a clever, sinful attempt to justify drinking coffee. And it may be. That's why I think this will be a long-term battle in my life, until that glorious day when I meet Christ face-to-face. That’s why one aspect of this is to work to be satisfied with the one cup and not be gluttonous about it (a little bit of C.S. Lewis there for you). We'll see how it goes.

I welcome your thoughts (Liturgy below).

Coffee Liturgy for the Ritual of Morning Coffee

Father, as I hold this cup of coffee in my hands, waiting to taste that first delightful sip on my tongue,

I thank you.

[Breathe deeply]

I thank you for this gift of flavors and the good feelings it releases in my brain.

[Breathe deeply]

May I be satisfied with your provision of this cup.

[Breathe deeply]

May I remember that You are the one my heart longs for and this cup can never substitute for your presence in my life.

[Breathe deeply]

May each sip remind me of your goodness to provide simple pleasures to your children.

[Breathe deeply]

Father, I thank you.

Stop Settling for Prince Charming

That’s right. Let me say it again. Stop settling for Prince Charming.

Now before you groan and think that I’m about to explain how you don’t need Prince Charming because Jesus is the ultimate Prince Charming, you can rest at ease and keep reading. I do love Jesus, but that is most definitely not my point.

Here’s my point in a nutshell. Prince Charming doesn’t exist. He’s unavailable. But we settle for a life of only dreaming about a man who will meet and fulfill everything we ever dreamed of without us having to do any work at all. We miss all of the real men in front of us—men who are actually available, and, if we’re willing to risk it, able to provide us so much more love and fulfillment then Prince Charming ever can.

I settled for Prince Charming for a long time—33 years to be exact. For me Prince Charming came in the form of various guys (some good, some not so much) that I dreamed would one day sweep me off my feet. These guys were dashing and handsome, funny and smart, but they were unavailable to me. Some were just unavailable in general. Others were not capable of emotional connection because they were so self-absorbed. Most of them had no interest in me at all. I had imaginary relationships with many of these guys. I would talk to them in my head and they would respond lovingly. And to be honest, it was safe to like these guys. They didn’t like me, so I never had to actually deal with a real relationship where you have to be honest about what you like and don’t like. You have to express your needs and be willing to be vulnerable and stay connected to someone who isn’t always perfect and who turns you off sometimes because he’s got bad breath or doesn’t anticipate your desires without you sharing them out loud.

No, it’s way easier to settle for Prince Charming who you don’t have to risk your heart with and learn how to love when you don’t feel like it. Prince Charming doesn’t have different opinions from you that you have to work through, and he certainly knows how to match and not embarrass you in public.

For years I overlooked the guys who actually did like me. Something in me would almost be turned off at a guy who liked me and treated me well. It’s as if I was too afraid of intimacy with a real available person, so I went running to Prince Charming who I never had to risk with, and I convinced myself that I didn’t really like the guys who actually pursued me.

I’m not married yet, but I suspect that married women settle for Prince Charming too. Things get messy and hard with your own imperfect husbands, and the idea of entrusting your heart to him, tenderly calling him to godly manhood, or opening up to him about what scares you is too hard. So you pull away into your own world and dream of Prince Charming—whether it’s an imaginary guy or just a “better” version of your husband, without interacting with the man that’s right in front of you. It’s too scary because there’s a chance to get hurt. A chance the real guy will fail to meet your needs or worse yet, reject you. But the possibility of a truly connected relationship full of joy and pain is greater than what you’ll ever have with Prince Charming.

As a single gal for three more months, I’ve had to wrestle with the fact that my fiancé is not Prince Charming. Sometimes I get annoyed at him and don’t feel like opening up to him. This would worry me when we were dating, and I thought it meant I needed to break up with him. My married friends helped me realize that this was normal (Who knew? Thanks to Hollywood and our romanticized idea of blissful relationships that don’t require any work or sacrifice). My boyfriend (now fiancé) was a good guy who loved Jesus and adored me, and the fact that I didn’t always feel crazy about him didn’t mean that I needed to pack my bags. I needed to wait it out and to risk being honest with him about how I felt—something I had never tried with another man before. Oddly enough, he handled it with a tender strength and consistency that was safe and restful. It didn’t scare him, and it brought us closer together little by little. I was actually experiencing what it means to be flawed and open in relationship with him. To choose intimacy and connection when all I wanted to do was hide and pull into myself. I can hardly believe that God has given me this man to grow in relationship with. I’m scared for the times when I don’t feel in love with him anymore and I wonder what in the world I was thinking, but I hope that, more often than not, I choose relationship and intimacy in the midst of my fear.

So my advice… stop settling for Prince Charming. He’s not going to come riding in on a white horse. In fact, Jesus didn’t even come riding in on a white horse. He was a real man, one who probably smelled funny, wasn’t the most handsome, and who didn’t have tons of money or come from the greatest of backgrounds. He didn’t do what everyone was expecting Him to do. No, he actually wanted a relationship with His disciples and the people around Him—one of intimacy. Peter in particular had to accept the relationship Christ offered him—especially after he had denied Him three times. He had to look Christ in the eye again and step out of his own shame to enter back into relationship with Him. And this surrender is often the first step to healing with our spouses as well.

The man of your dreams doesn’t exist (thank goodness), so stop settling for him. Because your husband might very well exist (whether you’re married to him yet or not). And no, he’s not perfect like Jesus, but he’s way more worth the messy, glorious parts of relationship with than Prince Charming will ever be.

p.s. I suspect these principals can also apply to men and their pursuit of the perfect Sleeping Beauty, a fairy tale character who cannot compare to a real woman who bares the image her Creator. So guys, please don’t settle for Sleeping Beauty either. She requires nothing from you and, in turn, can’t even begin to give you what a true woman has the potential to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Perfect Marshmallow

Here it is folks, a picture of the best marshmallow I've ever tasted.

Apple Cinamon

Toasted

Yumminess

And made by a guy in red pants.

Does it get much better than that?

Well, unless you took a strawberry-flavoured marshmallow and dipped it in chocolate fondue, and rolled it in crushed graham cracker crumbs. That might possibly be the best marshmallow I've ever tasted...

Yep, I'm pretty sure that's my favorite.

Or both favorites.

Yes, both favorites.

Get your own at wondermade.com

(Photo is from http://www.flickr.com/photos/creativemorningsorlando/8190142231/in/set-72157632026253352 )

"Use Your Words, Honey"

I feel like the English language is slipping from my mind--like I'm losing my words.

I hear people like my mom and one of our VP's at work talk, and they use such descriptive well-placed words. Words that I know the meaning of, but that I forgot even existed. Words that I would never remember to use in a sentence.

I love the use of a well-placed word. Which is perhaps why I love witty humor more than anything--the art of using words creatively. (Just listen to the dialogue from my favorite movie, "An Ideal Husband." Every time I watch it, I'm hanging on almost every phrase in pure joy. Props to Oscar Wilde)

A similar thing happens with my emotions. I only have a few words to describe the typical emotions I experience--fine, frustrated, annoyed, hurt, uncertain, thoughtful, tired, quite, goofy, witty, and giddy. That's it really, the only words I ever really use to describe how I'm feeling. (Well, and often I don't actually now how I'm feeling, but that's another blog post...)

But there are so many other really cool, descriptive words out there, ones that don't get used very much.

persnickity
agregate
distain
entitled
capricious
nafarious
clandestine
juxtapose
sentinel
mileu
postulate
aberrant
abscond
egregious

I spend my days trying to write as simply as possible and to not use "big" words. Society as a whole doesn't use "big" words much either. And I realize that they are all slipping from my memory.

I don't want to lose my words and just use a generic term instead of something more specific. Why say "anger" when "distain" "contempt" or "rage" is much more accurate? It's like I'm only painting with a few colors on my pallet. I'm missing all the shades and nuances of color. It's not about trying to sound pretencious or snobby by using "big" words, it's more about an appreciation for language and using it well.

"A word fittly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver"

So anyway, how do I retain the English language and not lose so many delightful words? Perhaps I can find a way to do a "word of the day" or some sort of vocab memory. Not sure.

But those are my thoughts for the day, unstructured as they may be...

Instilling a Heart for Giving

“What’s the name of this country?” eight-year-old Alyssa asked as she pointed to a picture of girls her own age in a charitable gift catalog.

“Afghanistan,” her grandmother answered.

“Is it really cold there?”

“Well, in some places it’s really cold.”

“What do they need scarves for? Is it because of the cold?”

Alyssa loves scarves and has a lot of them herself. Her questions gave her grandmother, Pat Penrose, the opportunity to explain the predicament of girls in Afghanistan and their need for scarves.

Having grown up frugally herself, Pat is thankful that her three grandchildren are well taken care of, but wants to make sure they appreciate their blessings. “I did not feel that they really understood the way the majority of the world lives,” she explains.

Pat’s sister and brother in law, Susan and Dennis Malone, have been a major influence in Pat’s life. When the Malones began serving as literacy workers with Wycliffe over thirty years ago, Pat and her husband began supporting them financially. When her husband died in 2008, Pat found herself able to expand her support of Wycliffe and other Christian ministries. It was then that she decided to leave her entire IRA to charity—with Wycliffe receiving a major portion.

Wanting to get her grandchildren involved in giving, Pat set up a donor-advised fund with the Wycliffe Foundation. She calls it the Penrose Intergenerational Charity Fund, and it’s been a great way to teach them how to care for others who don’t have even their basic needs met.

“I asked them if they would like to be on the board of directors, and of course that was pretty intriguing for them. I told them we were going to use the fund to help other people and I wanted them to help me decide where the money should go.”

Pat started with a charitable gift catalog, asking her grandchildren to look through it and select the projects that interested them most. Her twenty-one-year-old grandson (a business major) thought that micro-lending was the best solution, while her fifteen-year-old granddaughter considered local projects a priority. The process has started many conversations about poverty and its effects on children throughout the world. And between all three grandchildren, it seems they want to support almost every project.

“My job, as I see it, is to raise their awareness, to talk honestly, to share with them my deep convictions, and then to let the Holy Spirit do the rest,” she explains.

 - By Angela Nelson

Run-on Sentences

Today we played the run-on sentence game, where I was given a topic, and then had to write a long sentence in relation to that topic. Here are my sentences. Perhaps one day, I’ll come up with a more serious blog post that will leave the reader with something more than bewilderment…. but not today.

Topic 1: A rock star that’s scared of loud noises

As he gazed down in disgust at the mosh pit of gyrating college students too drunk to have any clue whether or not he was actually singing or whether his ’58 limited edition Gibson really had all five strings in tack, he realized with terror that his least favorite part of the concert was coming up and that he would have to endure the screeching sound of the pyrotechnic explosions which hid his escape into the trap door under his feet so that he could run down the ten foot tunnel, up the fifty-step staircase, and re-appear in the scaffolding above the crowd in order to bungee jump inches above their heads just as the last few lines of the song brought everything to an all too sensory-overloaded climax.

Topic 2: What’s a clown doing here?

The crowd was a mixture of half-asleep men and teary-eyed woman who eagerly watched as John and Mary stumbled happily through their vows with the patient help of Father George until everything was brought to an abrupt stop at the entry of an all too enthusiastic clown dressed in purple polka dots and honking the horn of his 5-foot unicycle as he rode down the aisle to the tune of Yankee Doodle and threw candy out into the audience, an act that succeeded to get the attention of all the men who had previously been dreaming of perfecting their  golf swing and scaring the two babies in the back row who immediately started screaming until their frantic mothers hastily gathered them up to take them outside so that they would not disturb John and Mary who hadn’t quite recovered from the shock of the unexpected wedding guest and were trying to decide whether to laugh, cry, or just skip to the kiss that they’d been perfecting for quite some time.