Holding Fast
If I were to paint my friend
B_, tallish, silvery, bike-tanned
and toned, you might perceive
hope wafting off the canvas,
lifelong rigor as well as riff:
musician, instructor, composer,
arranger, photographer — plus,
a DIY flair with espresso, lavishing
swirled foam atop steaming crema.
WHAT A GIFT TO GATHER TODAY . . .
. . . in the kitchen of B_’s new home! Post-tour, he offers lattes.
Dreamer and I last shared coffee with him and his beloved wife shortly before they moved here. A few months later, they were urgently evacuated as our drought-plagued city and countryside erupted in flames.
Think, inferno: demon winds, smoke-roil, three vast raging wildfires. For eight days. Like the 65,000 other evacuees, our friends wondered, would they have a home to return to?
We too were packed to leave if fire encroached any nearer.
And now, here we are. Reunited.
Lattes? Bring on the heat — the healing kind, almost holy. With a big fat yes to whole milk!
B_, our celebrant, faces sleek, state-of-the-art machinery, his reverent flair for ceremony laced, as ever, with quiet joy.
Picture unerring care. Unhurried hovering. He bows, over his work.
PACK BEANS. PULVERIZE. BREW AND POUR.
STEAM MILK UNTIL GLOSSY, WITH PARTIAL FROTH. 
NOW BEHOLD THE HOLDING . . .
an angled cup
as well as the pitcher
tilted to pour — an eddy
of swirls, first, then
the lowered spout,
the wrist’s rhythmic
jiggle gradually slowing
as creamy petals unfurl
beneath his gaze:
a small dip, a pause,
one delicate seam
drawn back to the rim.
Cue the dripless rise
of the pitcher, set aside,
the poured “rosetta”
so at home on the surface
it lingers, intact.
Now the hand off: rich,
nutty aroma, extended.
Ahh, the seeping warmth as one palm cradles the vessel.
The at-rest feel of the opposite thumb in the handle, fingers curved.
Taste and see.
LAYER BY SILKEN LAYER, I am drinking the depths of the cup entrusted to me, the designer’s image unmarred.
I peer over the rim at Dreamer. Please, God, may I see your image linger in him, no matter what.
Because, how parched, at times, the fiery ordeal.
How troubling, my thirst to be served.
In the ancient desert of Ziph, David’s friend Jonathan “helped him find strength in God. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said” (1 Sam. 23:15-16).
Steadfast, he held out his belief that no matter what befell them, God’s gift of replenishing wholeness awaited.
Holding certainty on behalf of another somehow elicits a divine reciprocity. “He who refreshes others will himself be refreshed” (Prov. 11:25).
The maker
shapes each stage, grounds
to liquid, a waft of vapor,
the final blend taking on
body, richly layered:
love, made delectable.
A KIND OF COMMUNION?
Afterward, cups emptied, we pray together. And we who thirst are doubly filled.
Need I mention a few beautiful tears? The weightless grace of shared gratitude?
Author Gunilla Norris writes, “How we hold the simplest of our tasks speaks loudly about how we hold life itself.”
Whatever our favorite beverage when temperatures drop, with every sip may we love well. Live, awash. Holding on and being held.
And, after drinking deeply, perhaps this:
Timebound though we are, O Delicious Nearness, how may we serve you?
Friends, how are you holding as well as extending weightless grace?
Quote: Gunilla Norris, Being Home
coffee poured into blue cup Photo by Julien Labelle on Unsplash
steaming the milk in pitcher Photo by Kaylee Stoll on Unsplash
espresso grounds Photo by Daniel on Unsplash
rosetta in blue cup Photo by B_
From the archives, you might also enjoy the act of holding in this post.
Coffee is such a comfort, so this experience of dear friends creating a custom cup of Jo for you sounds like quite a balm.
And thank you for highlighting both the real hardships and beauties you’ve been surrounded by. How fortifying friendship can be. What sweet acts of service here, the coffee crafted for you, and the words you shape for us.
Bethany, thank you. “Fortifying” and “service” shimmer for me as I read your words and think more about how they can create a “balm” for body and soul. For the giver as well as receiver.
Seems this passage of life requires more receiving than ever before. And oh, the vulnerability of that . . .
Sacred grounds ~ thank you, Laurie, for your way with words of the heart and life. Wayne and I have enjoyed (indeed, been fueled by at times!) steaming cups of coffee for 50 years now last Friday the 25th. The years go by quickly – one day at a time. Capturing the moments comes with a lifetime together. Embracing you and Dreamer in prayer, still, to the last drop. We love and are loved by our bountiful Abba ♥ May your autumn be full of showered blessings, falling like nature’s leaves.
Congratulations, Nancy! What a beautiful milestone. Imagine the gallons of java . . .
Toasting you and Wayne!
And thanking you, too, for your prayers and beautiful autumn wishes.
This.
“LAYER BY SILKEN LAYER, I am drinking the depths of the cup entrusted to me, the designer’s image unmarred.”
If I can live life not measuring the arduous against the mundane or longevity against a flash, loss against gain but caring entirely that THIS, what ever it is, has been entrusted to me by Him, then I will succeed. Then my life has purpose and heart.
Susan, your words are ringing in my soul to the tune of “Yes.” May I live them out this day. Thank you for the way you see in and behind and beyond my words to the essence of the invitation to us all. <3
Hopeful.
You’re offering paints for the reader a canvas that’s both messy and hopeful.
My youngest son is a coffee influencer.
Aiden’s dad.
https://www.instagram.com/alexander.mills?stkn=MWp3b2RvZTIwbzJkcA==
He changed the way I purchase, prepare, pour, drink, savour, coffee.
My oldest son, made me a little wooden box for the kitchen counter, to contain those things needed for preparing coffee.
With purpose, he had two words inscribed on that wooden box… Sit & Sip.
It’s become a practice.
To sit & sip.
In those places, I find my hope is sustained.
Better able, to behold.
Tasting notes in the coffee.
And God.
Bless you, and yours.
Rick, my friend,
How marvelous, the ways your sons have broadened and deepened your practice and pleasure and presence . . . via coffee!
“Sit & Sip” is the perfect invitation. “Come, and become; Hopeful … find hope sustained.” I’m loving the music of it.
I’ve not yet acquired a fine-tuned savoring to discern the “notes,” but your comment invites me to learn more!
Blessings on your next cup . . .
Such beauty in your words, Laurie. Each line brings delight to the mind and heart. “The weightless grace of shared gratitude” is indeed to be pursued and savored. Thank you also for including that quote from Gunilla Norris, that spurs me on to watchfulness, savoring, and gratitude.
Dear Nancy, thank you. I’m glad to have been a channel for delight!
I highly recommend her book, Being Home, a brief treasury of short reflections on, and celebrations of, everyday tasks—accompanied by soulful photos.
Dearest Laurie, This beautiful post has reminded me to live more sacramentally. Thank you so much. Sending Autumn blessings.
Oh I love your wording of that wish. I’m adding that to my prayers today. May the richness of the season deeply delight you.
BTW: I seem to remember your beloved is a potter. Have you two perchance read the collected reflections gathered in Being Home by Gunilla Norris? Her partner is also a potter. The brief entries for sacramental living through a day are so lovely.
Your lovely post makes me want to buy an espresso machine and cry at the same time. The holy communion of Fellowship with other people who love you and stand with you during hard times, comforting the weary soul. I’m so glad your friends made it back to a house still standing and so did you. So many things to be grateful for. And you, my friend, have a way of spotting them.
Thanks dear Gena for this lovely affirmation of fellowship and how truly priceless it can be, especially in tough times.
Here’s to artistan baristas, as well, for care taken to warm and delight us!
You so gently remind me today to watch for the gifts . . . Thank you, friend.