Daddy and his girls - Coffee and Conversation

Sometimes I wonder how I ever get any work done here at Starbucks. Today, there is a father sitting to my right, sitting with his two daughters - probably 6 and 11 – discussing life’s happenings.

I always have headphones on, and sometimes I turn down the volume just to hear the conversations around me. Every once in a while it’s worth it – like right now. As the younger daughter sits in his lap, arms around his neck he is actively listening to a funny story that the older daughter is telling him. He giggles when she does, he asked her about her plans to finish her little school project, and he told how impressed he was with her computer skills – how wonderful is that?

Here is a dad who values what his little girl has to say, encourages her to do what she needs to get done, asks her what she feels about situations, and then lets her know how proud he is of her.

The littler one is humming away – he started singing along.

Little Lexie and her older sister Hailey are walking out now (yes, I heard him call them by name)… each with one of dad’s hands in their own and their Starbucks drink in the other.
It is a blessing to see a father love on his daughters in the most perfect way. We girls can sometimes say silly things – a father who listens and loves intently is just what is needed.

For the cynics: There are, in fact, really wonderful fathers out there.

For the overwhelmed men: Having a daughter means listening (and maybe a little giggling) – if you do just that, she will love you forever.

For the worried women: There are plenty of men out there who will make incredible dad’s. Help them by being a woman who is easy to listen to.

"The Way I See It"

As most would probably surmise, my ‘coffee shop’ is known to most as the local Starbucks. The traditional “The Way I See It” is back on the recycled paper cups after the holidays have come and gone. It has, more than usual spurred some thought on my part. I like that it is generally another person’s opinion. I can choose to agree, disagree, or even alter their words. I liked today’s in particular.

It reads:
“The irony of commitment is that it’s deeply liberating – in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.” – Anne Morriss, Starbucks Customer from NYC.

I think I will just leave you with her thought. I could add my own – but I can’t think of a good enough reason to do so.
Enjoy.

An interesting evening at the shoppe

Across from me sits a man with his head in his hands. He stares at his computer screen with a deeply concentrated look. I wonder what he is reading.

About an hour ago I saw a man sitting in an armchair to my left twiddling his thumbs and fidgeting for a good 15 minutes until a tall, thin, and pretty brunette walked through the door. He hopped up so quickly I thought he might sit right back down. As she opened her arms to him he said, “It’s so nice to finally meet you” as they embraced. They have been sitting at the same table, drinking their cappolattemochachinotea of some kind laughing at each other’s jokes and talking about life. He seems relaxed, sitting back in his chair with his ankles crossed. She has her elbows on the table and keeps touching her face and running her fingers through her short hair. I think it’s going well.

Behind me sits a man who has quietly been talking on his phone for the last half hour. I overheard him explaining to the person on the other end how all that he wanted was to get his life together, for things to finally work themselves out. His stressed tone made my heart hurt a little. It is in sentences such as those whispered by this man that makes you believe that our physical body really is the outward expression of our souls and who we are at our core. How could this man be really known in this moment in his life without the ability to express it with his tone of voice?

A friend walked in just a little bit ago and with just a few questions inquiring about the pressing things in her life, I saw her eyes begin to well up. Life just isn’t easy for her right now. It seems that one of the most challenging situations in life is when you desperately love another and they either do not understand, or far worse, they cannot or will not reciprocate. I admire this woman, my friend, so much for her tears.

There was a time in my life where I swore off tears. That’s the truth. I thought they were the epitome of weakness. Today, I see them as the pinnacle of strength. The ability, or even the desire to bare our souls in such a way makes the dead exterior of our egos fall away – even melt. I saw the heart of my friend in her tears tonight. It reminded me of the reality of my own. I’d like to, one day, feel with every tear that rolls off of my cheek “I’m alive.” With every tear I can be reminded of my soul – the joy, pain, love, weakness, and contentment that it finds.

There has been many a discussion on the importance of our physical bodies lately in my life. It seems to be something I must learn, or understand perhaps on a deeper level. Coincidently, it is what I recognize most these days and it is something that I have ever so dearly come to appreciate – even need. The Apostle Paul argues over and over for the inseparability of body and soul in his second letter (1 Corinthians) to the church of Corinth. The Apostle John sends well wishes to his dear friend Gaius in Third John, and seems not to blink when mentioning his hope that the body is well, just as the soul is also well.

I find so many challenges in such thoughts that there could never be a post that contains every one of them. The knowledge that our body essentially bares our souls speaks to sin, insecurity, faith, trust, and our calling to both holiness and righteousness.

Praise God for His creation! Praise God for our soul and body – together, baring one another. Praise Him for the truth in His word, and the knowledge and understanding of those who came before us.

So dear reader, join me in being mindful of the body – our own as well as others – just as it is the soul.

A long time coming

I should have started this page 7 years ago when I began frequenting the local coffee shop to read, study, and spend quality time with fellow caffeine-addicts whom I affectionately call my friends.

There are days when it serves as my escape from reality and others when it feels more like being home than anywhere else. I love slow nights when I can have any chair I'd like, and I might love even more the days when I walk in to see many familiar and lovely faces of people who make these four walls so much more than a retail store with coffee bar.

I know the people behind the counter, where their kids go to school, the names of their grandkids and even shared a moment of sorrow with a few shed tears over local tragedies. I suppose it is what you get when you combine espresso, steamed milk, leather arm chairs, and wonderful people.

Welcome to Coffee Shop Thought.

I owe so much to this little store, I figured I might as well document it.