Okay, I’ll admit it. I fall into this crazy coffee addicted generation. Over the past little bit my love for the hot (or sometimes blended) cup of java has only grown. In the past 6 months or so I have also done a little traveling, and I have come to a conclusion. I would rather have a cup of coffee at a kitchen table than in a chain coffee shop. I have sipped from warm mugs in many living rooms and kitchens anywhere from Redding, CA to Pittsburgh, PA to Bethlehem, Israel, I love this about my life and job. Beautiful. What a privilege. There is something so precious about being with people in their homes. It is an invitation past all the walls we hide behind and brings us to a common ground. People, we are all simply people. People who know and have found what truly matters. Another confession, it is not really the coffee that I love. It is the relationships that this simple drink brings. It is the conversations had. It is the cultures’ experienced. It is the love and warmth felt in all of these places. It’s the laughter echoing off the walls. It’s the connection of hearts. It is the stories told. It is the encouragement uttered. Thanks to all of you who have welcomed me into your homes and your hearts. Thanks for the hospitality. I’m no Bible scholar, but I think that hot coffee could very easily be substituted here, “and if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.” Matthew 10:42 Funny writing this, considering I don’t even have a kitchen of my own to invite you into, but when I do, stop in sometime…
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