I went to Atlanta one day and had lunch with a friend. We ate in this garden just a few yards from a busy street, but it felt like another world. Tucked away in this restaurant’s patio, we chatted over tacos and French press coffee.
I’ve thought about that coffee a lot and was tempted during the Christmas shopping season to get a French press for myself. I managed to refrain.
Until after Christmas.
The combination of an Amazon gift card and encouragement from a friend was the push I needed to do something I very much wanted any way. So I ordered it while still at the dinner table that night.
It wasn’t supposed to arrive until Tuesday, my first day back at work, so I tucked it away as something to do this coming weekend. I was pleasantly surprised on Monday when I got a text that my package had arrived.
After a trip to Kroger for Kona coffee beans, I unpacked my press and my coffee grinder and proceeded to make the most awful cup of weak coffee ever. The first one went down the drain, but I’ve been improving steadily ever since.
This morning, as I am writing this, I am sipping on one good cup of coffee. I may still have some tweaking to do, but my French press is safe from being returned (it didn’t look good there for a while).
The French press is like many things in life: that elliptical I lost the battle with last night, the writing that I have such a love/hate relationship with, walking by faith. It takes practice, patience, and perseverance. It takes time.
In our microwave or dare I say Keurig world, we want everything ready in just a few seconds. It’s easy to be impatient with ourselves, with others, and even with God. But He doesn’t work on our schedule and life isn’t controlled by a few quick pushes of a button.
Psalm 27:14 tells us to “wait on the Lord and be of good courage.” And just a few pages over, in Psalm 34:8, it says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”
That’s better than my coffee. And He’s well worth the wait.