Time Enough for Tea

I wish I could be a coffee person.  There is something so enticing about the aroma of a freshly brewed pot of coffee, and the Folgers commercials I watched as a child really pulled at my heart strings.  Somehow those marketing geniuses knew how to get me to believe in the connection between good coffee and a good life.

When I was a little girl, that was the life I thought I wanted when I reached adulthood – the one where I was lovingly welcomed out of dreamland by an early rising husband who made sure the coffee was started so it would be ready when I sleepily made my way down the stairs of my beautiful home, to be embraced by my lovely, mild mannered and kind children and adorable puppy.  And then to start my day, that sweet husband would hand me a steaming cup of goodness that I would calmly savor to the last drop …

Strangely, as I aged, those commercials made me feel nostalgic for my home and childhood, even though in reality coffee was never more than an occasional choice of drink for my parents.  And on those rare occasions when they did pour a cup, I am sure that nothing magical happened.  I don’t remember sweetly embracing them as they drank their coffee, and no puppies ran into the room.  Even still, perhaps subconsciously, I trusted the connection between good coffee and a loving home.  I had the loving family and eventually got the puppy.  But as I became an adult, I was left longing to experience “the best part of waking up” without feeling sick afterward, because for some unfortunate reason, coffee does not agree with me.

During my college years, I envied my friends who could arrange a whole social outing around a cup of coffee.  The ever elusive “coffee date” among acquaintances that could lead to budding friendships, mentoring relationships, or potential love interests often escaped me for fear of developing stomach pains significant enough to kill the mood or cut the event short.

After a few unsuccessful attempts at physically enjoying what I perceived to be a small liquid taste of heaven, I changed my strategy.  I decided that I would continue to participate in coffee dates and hang out at the on campus coffee spot but I would choose a different drink.  One that was kinder to me.  It will make me a bit of a mystery … a hip, unique, mystery… I reasoned.  I’m pretty sure that was the same reasoning I would use to justify my wardrobe choices back then (and even now, if I’m being honest.)

Anyway, it was during those college years that my love for tea began.  That season of my life offered countless opportunities to meet new people and develop deep and often unlikely friendships.  I can remember many late afternoon and late night discussions, face to face with people whose thoughts and ideas challenged and inspired me, whose company intrigued and delighted me … all while stirring or cradling a warm mug of tea and breathing in its subtle excellence.

Over time, my cups of tea have come to represent my own version of the Folgers ideal.  As I wake up in the morning (or in the afternoon on the days following my overnight shifts at the hospital where I currently work), and start to boil some water for tea, for me it’s not really about the drink.  It is the moments that any given cup of tea could potentially offer that excite me.  I crave having time enough to sit and enjoy the soft aroma of that moments choice of tea, to feel its warmth and reflect on the many things that I care about – or want to care about – but can’t quite articulate for lack of focus or discussion.

Some days I want to make a cup of tea and sit on the couch with the sun beaming softly through the shades, casting light on the book in my lap that I am eager to read.  Or I want to take it to the table and set out another cup for a friend or a family member to join me and talk and laugh and try to make sense of the state of our world and wonder what ever happened to our Folgers commercial lives?  And question why we think that is even what we should be striving for …

Sometimes I want to put that cup of tea in a travel mug and take it to my Grandpa’s house and enjoy every moment of sitting in the presence of that gentle, humble, kind, loving man, even when I don’t know what to talk about beyond the weather and how we’re both “hanging in there”, and updating him on the happenings in my little family.

Perhaps it sounds silly, but tea is one of the little things that can often help me to appreciate the bigger things in life.  These are the days when I am often running ragged, trying my best to keep up with everything and everyone that needs my attention.  The moments when I can truly sit and enjoy a whole cup of tea (while it is still warm) are few and far between.  But when those moments do happen, like when I recently woke up on my weekend off and my husband walked in with pastries from a local bakery saying “your water for tea is hot and ready”, I knew a good memory was in the process of being made right then.  He took his coffee to the table outside with our two kids happily reaching for their pastries and spilling their coffee milk, which I chose to overlook.  I embraced the moment for its sweetness, knowing that it would probably melt into some sort of chaos at any time.

If that was my commercial moment, we would have been advertising paper towels.  We would have suggested that life can be full of sweet and memorable moments, but that same life is also messy.  I no longer try to make connections between how things are and how they ideally should be, but instead am trying to simply connect with how each moment is, and I am doing my best to be fully present, ideally with a cup of tea in hand, and time enough to enjoy it.