Coffee & God

From "The Last Storyteller"
The Last Storyteller available on Amazon.

Coffee and God

            Early morning, I settle into the worn and over-used step of my back porch, holding a steaming cup of coffee, witnessing a glorious sunrise, listening to the morning song of a nearby bird. The chilly morning of Texas’ winters has arrived, carrying with her a morning dew, gently sprinkled over a seemingly revitalized lawn. Perhaps the plentiful rainfall of the past week has added new life to a lawn that suffered through a broiling Texas summer.

            Suddenly, the deep baritone of an eighteen-wheeler’s air-horn, traveling Interstate 35, drowns out the morning melodies of the innocent bird. The highway is not much further from my back porch than my neighbor's cornfield. The serenity and numbness of my perfect morning end abruptly, crushed by the rig driver's obnoxious warning.

            Reality rains down. The world is waking up. My coffee is not as hot nor as good as first chronicled. I inspect my lawn and understand the new growth, in truth, is just weeds. Bermuda has gone dormant, anticipating Winter's inevitable return. There have been no ears of corn in my neighbor's field for months, having succumbed to record high heat and water restrictions. Calling him my neighbor is also a bit off target, we have exchanged a few morning nods over the last seven years, but I don't even know his name. My porch, which moments ago, felt spacious and liberating, in this realty is only four feet by four feet, and once again just a place to wipe your feet.

            My experience this morning is a microcosm of the daily life of the Addict. For many addicts capturing long moments of serenity and numbness by simply swallowing a pill or puncturing a vein is a daily routine. The Addict thinks they are fooling people into believing the addicted one is "straight and sober". They believe their enslaving behavior goes undetected by friends and family. They do not realize their secret life is just being snubbed by these others after years of concern, unmeasurable patience and buckets of tears.

            With great hypocrisy, the addict attends their weekly support meetings, purporting to be splendid examples to the other addicts, sadly, even before the newbies who are dying to begin a new life of sobriety. After the meetings, after a time of practiced deception, the seasoned Addict returns to her own hidden back porch and commits to going numb.

            I pray, their moment of numbness will be interrupted by God's air-horn, suffering reality to rain down upon their blindness.

            This morning, on my back porch, there are but two realities- coffee and God.

The addict believes their "coffee", their drug of choice, is trustworthy. Do they not realize the veritable nature of God? Can they accept that God will help them? Will they allow God to paint sunrises in their life, creating a new beginning? A beginning that could provide a second chance?

Another morning will find me on my porch, enjoying conversations with God. You see, it is through these conversations with Him, faith allows me to know—

Interruptions are temporary; beautiful sunrises will turn into dark gray clouds, lush lawns give way to ugly weeds, and when the songbird is silenced, when my coffee turns cold, He will still be there...listening.

Tomorrow will come soon. My back porch awaits...maybe you will join me.