I love the smell of it. I love the warmth of the cup as I hold it in my hand. I love the wispy steam that wafts up to my nose. I love to hold my coffee cup and just reflect upon the day ahead, or the one that just ended, but mostly upon how faithful the Lord has been throughout my life.
When our oldest two grandchildren were young, they stayed with us every other weekend for several months. I learned to use a cup of coffee in order to have a moment or two to myself.
If you are a mother, you know how incessant a child's conversation can be...even through the bathroom door. So I told Jack and Emma that if Grannie Frannie was holding a cup of coffee they could not disturb me, even to speak to me, unless it was a real emergency.
Jackson was about five at the time and he would tiptoe up to where I was sitting and silently peak into my cup. If there was coffee in it (and I made sure there was until I was ready to get up) he would quietly tiptoe out. He never once spoke to me during all those cups of coffee. His sister Emma, who was younger, never even braved it. Instead, she let Jackson do all the work.
Remembering this, I was instantly thankful that our Lord never has a cup of coffee in His hands. There is no moment we come to Him that He is not already watching and listening for us to direct our thoughts toward Him. He delights in our attention. If we could ever fathom how great, how complete and how continual His love for us truly is, it would break our hearts that we turn our attention to Him as little as we do.
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