Ah, coffee. One definition could read, “Liquid relaxation served in a cup or mug.”
Most of us have tasted it. For some, the bitter brew left a longing for an ice-cold cola. But for the rest of us, coffee became our mainstay to sanity.
What memories does coffee awaken with its fresh-brewed aroma? A quiet sunrise accompanied by a steaming mug and a donut? Or the relief of a cup at work on a much-needed coffee break? Maybe an after-dinner coffee sipped while reading?
When I think of coffee, I don’t smell it or taste a certain flavor. I don’t hear the percolator or feel warmth radiating into my bones. When I think of coffee, I think of people.
Through sharing hundreds of cups during my coffee-drinking career, I’ve seen tears, heard tales, joined in laughter. Memories swirl: my husband bringing a cup just when I needed it most, my dad surprising my mom and me with a pot of decaf, my brother’s knack for making the best coffee around, which I can’t do even mimicking his every move.
Maybe you think of one specific person whenever coffee is mentioned. For me, that’s my grandmother.
Oh, it wasn’t the coffee itself, though she did brew a good cup. Nor the adored china teacups we used. I recall the stories. My grandmother was a storyteller. Allow me to share one of my favorites.
My grandmother fell in love with a set of dishes on sale at Bowman’s Department Store and hinted at my grandfather about her upcoming birthday. As it approached, she knew she’d receive the treasured dishes. Sure enough, on her birthday, a Bowman’s truck pulled up to the curb. She raced to the door and yanked it open. There stood the delivery man, smiling and handing her two brand-new clothes props. (People used these to “prop up” the clothesline to keep drying clothing from touching the ground.) Snatching them with a huff, she planned the attack for my grandfather when he returned home.
As she walked away, the bell rang a second time. She reopened the door to see the same delivery man, this time bearing a box containing the coveted dishes.
Coffee and love became synonymous when I saw my grandmother’s smile as she remembered this tale. Over the years, she shared pieces of her life through stories told over a hundred cups of coffee. Invite someone to share a cup of love with you today!
***I’d love to read your coffee-cup tale! To leave your story, click on the words beside the date under the title of this post. Then, scroll to the bottom of the comment section to find the box with the heading, “Leave a reply.” Thank you for sharing!
*** Stop by next Monday to read how a pink poodle bank and a $5 bill saved a young couple!
legaciesletloose 
My first thought of coffee is also my grandma. My parents didn’t drink coffee so growing up I only saw this curious activity when with Grandma and Grandpa. Once when I was little I asked Grandma if I could drink coffee too. She told me oh no, that I was too young and if I tried to drink it, my face would turn black! So I waited. While I don’t remember my first cup, I believe it was served to me when in the hospital having my babies. It just came with breakfast whether I ordered any or not, which I didn’t. I rather liked it. Then after all three of my boys were in school, I went back to school, taking night classes. It wasn’t that I needed the caffeine to stay away because I’m a night owl and at my best at night, but coffee was cheaper in the vending machine than pop or snacks so I went with that and grew accustomed to it! At home I stuck to instant until graduating to a coffee pot, the kind you use on the stove. My husband bought our first coffeemaker and then there was no going back! I would have loved to finally share a cup of coffee with my grandma all those years later, but toward the end of her life, she had to give up coffee due to her kidney troubles. Maybe one day in Heaven we will 🙂
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Oh my…did your face turn black when you were in the hospital? LOL! What a great story to tell! My grandmother told some whoppers like that, too…such as to never eat a watermelon seed or else a watermelon would grow in your belly! But she also told true “stories” that didn’t sound true, but when put to the test, she told the truth. For example, when my first try at growing potatoes produced luscious, dark green plants and about three, quarter-sized potatoes, she told me to always plant root vegetables on the down-side (waning) of the moon and the other bush and vine vegetables on the up-side (waxing). And you know what? She was RIGHT! I tried it another year with much better results. The tide comes and goes with the moon, so maybe there is truth in this. And as you, I’m looking forward to one day sharing coffee with her in heaven! (I wonder if Jesus likes coffee? Hmm… LOL!)
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Haha, no my face never turned black in the hospital and I’m still drinking it everyday! Yep Grandmas can tell some whoppers, alright, but also words of wisdom like you found out about when to plant potatoes! I don’t know if Jesus would like coffee or not, but somehow I can imagine having a cup with Him! Maybe he will join my grandma and me one day 🙂
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I’m not a coffee drinker. So I have no “coffee stories.” But I enjoy reading your blog.
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Thanks for the encouragement, Beth! I don’t drink much coffee now, mostly tea. Any “tea stories”? LOL!
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I don’t do a lot of coffee drinking myself, but I know several wonderful people who enjoy it greatly. As of late, the person I bump into the most who runs on coffee is my chiropractor colleague and favorite coworker Paul, who I affectionately call my “work dad”. Frequently when he and I both have a lull in our schedules, I’ll find him leaning over my desk, with his blue mug full of coffee in his hand and either a story ready to be told or a YouTube video in mind to introduce me to. I hope and pray constantly that my work family never changes because he is just one piece of an awesome group we have at my office!
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Oh, Andrea, he sounds like a wonderful co-worker! I began drinking coffee when I worked in a 36-story office, something I never dreamed of in my little country town I grew up in. I worked on the 32nd and 34th floors, where we could feel the building sway in the wind. They had coffee in the break room, but I guess they never heard of hot tea. It was coffee or nothing, however, it was a far cry from Starbucks! LOL! Thank you for sharing your story! It blesses me to read how happy you are at work.
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My grandmother always made coffee for me—even though I was too young to be drinking it. She poured it into real china cups with half & half and had grown-up conversation with me. I’ll never forget it!
Beautiful post, my fried.
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Thank you, Julie!
The cup in the photo is my favorite of the ones my grandmother passed along to me. When the girls were small, she would put out these itty-bitty tea cups for them while she and I had the full-size ones. She would pour about two tablespoons of coffee in them! Then the girls would add about two tablespoons of sugar and fill it the rest of the way with milk. They gulp it down and then eat out the sugar on the bottom! But oh, how they loved feeling grown up with their own tea cups. And then she’d tell stories. I think I told you the one about the chicken that got loose at the railroad depot while my grandfather was in charge during the war. If not, let me know and I’ll share it! 🙂
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What a lovely story about your grandmother! And yes, coffee is something that has become a staple in my life and richly conditioned to evoke good feelings because of who I drink my coffee with–including with the Lord in my quiet times! 😉 Thanks for this inspiring post and I’ll be pinning to my inspirational board!
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Thank you so much! I started this blog for the purpose of connecting with people through these memory stories. I’ll keep plugging away at it … after my eyes heal from the recent surgeries. Too much computer, even 15 minutes, is too much sometimes. Blessings!
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I don’t have a specific favorite memory, but lots of little memories of sharing life over coffee or lunch. Enjoyed your post today!
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Thank you, Laura! I enjoy hearing others stories, so maybe another time! Blessings!
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