- the basics.
If we were on a coffee date, we’d talk life. It’s a beautiful Decembered Monday and life is full, but complicated. We’d talk adult Christmases–how it’s near-to-impossible to feel the same way you felt as a kid. I’d tell you Christmas is my favorite holiday–I’d ask you what you’re doing, I’d wish you Merry Christmas. And we’d talk about my new car. We’d talk about living in the business world. We’d talk about nostalgia. We’d talk essential oils and I’d tell you about my business, tribe and essential. We’d talk about the new vision I have for my poetry and everything we want to get done in 2017. We’d talk love life and the holiday season. We’d talk about cracker candy. I’d send you the recipe. We’d talk work and I’d tell you how exasperating it is to try being nice, but being in charge at the same time. We would talk trying to diet, but also loving comfort food during this Christmas season.
WE WOULD TALK ALL THE STRUGGLES.
- Project Christmas Card.
If we were on a coffee date, I’d slip you a Christmas card. No doubt in my mind, if we had a conversation today, you would be getting a card. Because I have this new love of Christmas this year–a tamer, quieter sort of love that isn’t wrapped up in materialism or flashy lights, but in smaller acts of love and giving. I’d tell you about our tree that barely reaches 4’11” and has no colored lights on it at all (one of my much-clung to traditions). I’d tell you that I named him Charlie and I’d tell you how much this little tree grabbed onto my heart that day in the tree lot because something told me that no one else would want it. And I don’t know how…but that little tree had so much light to give to this world and it needed a chance. (Needless to say…Charlie sits very proudly in the corner of our living room.) Then I’d tell you why I started Project Christmas Card this year–how something just tugged at me to send as many people as possible a Christmas card.
If we were on a coffee date, I’d tell you about the dreams that have been on my mind. But two things you should know before I tell you this story: 1.) I work as a manager. 2.) I’m working on a book called Chasing Dandelions. So…I had this dream a couple weeks ago, Coffee Date. An old crush was standing behind the counter at my work like he was waiting on me. I stared at him and he said something to the effect of, “Hey, you got these kids whipped into shape?” “Most days,” I smiled, noting the sudden gray in his beard. “Well, if you need me to get them into shape let me know.” And then I’m standing in a field and a giant dandelion flies at me, stopping just before my face, and then it exploded into thousands of dandelion seeds. I guess I don’t know what either of those mean, or if they mean anything at all, but it did solidify that what I’m working on is important. And maybe it will be important to a million people, or maybe it will be important to 5 people. Maybe it will only be important to me…but it still has value. And, Coffee Date, that eased my mind.
If we were on a coffee date, we’d hop in a car and drive. Drive down those backroads I’m so in love with until we get to the coffee shop I’ve been curious about for a long time. I’d give the Hawaiian Salted Caramel latte a shot, especially since I haven’t been doing too hot on the old diet lately. And the word hawaiian is music to my ears during all things winter.
If we were on a coffee date, you’d probably ask me how my Christmas shopping is going–if I have any presents, how Project Christmas Card is going. And I’d say I’ve got nada, zip, zilch on the gift end, but I wish so much that I could get tickets to the Beach Boys concert for the fam bam. Then we’d talk seasonal depression and I’d tell you how I’m trying to infuse as much spring as I can into my world before the darker, colder days hit. That I’m really trying to cling to hope this winter.
If we were on a coffee date, I’d share this post with you. Because it broke down my walls a little bit with God. Ann Voskamp is the realest.
- the difference, hillary.
Coffee Date? A teenager asked me for advice last night. At first I thought she was joking…but she was serious. Me? And I know, Coffee Date, that it seems simple…but to me, it isn’t. In a sense…I’m still so used to feeling like what I have to say doesn’t really count that…it’s hard to understand that I actually do have a seat at the King’s table. What I say does make a difference…and when I leave spots, it does make a difference. And this would segue into me making absolutely certain that you know what I haven’t known for so long: you matter, Coffee Date. You have a fingerprint unique to this world and when you leave, you leave a space. You’re not here to take up space, but to make something good of the spaces you inhabit. Think about that.
- little bugs.
I’ve been thinking about this scene while writing this post. “Take care of everyone smaller than you.” These words really weigh on me because I’ve been the littlest of bugs, Coffee Date. And not one person saw me. But I’m realizing, in my adulthood, that I went through everything I did because God knew that really…I was a seed. And He knew that someday I’d grow. So He needed to plant me in a spot where I could do the most good–where I could take care of the little bugs, if you will. And wherever you’re at, Coffee Date, I hope you know that whatever pain you’ve been through or are going through…it means something. It’s paving the way for opportunities and those opportunities may not be about you, but about the little bugs. We have to take care of the little bugs.
Peter Banning: Now I want you to take care of everything that’s smaller than you.
Thud Butt: Okay.
Too Small: Then who do I look after?
Peter Banning: Neverbugs – little ones.
- “but she found herself and, somehow, that was everything.”Finally, if we were on a coffee date…I’d show you my latest playlist. One I listened to while writing this, one I’ve been listening to in the car, one I’ve been listening to while laying in bed at night, one has shown me what love can look like, and one has sparked my creative process.
All my love, Coffee Dates ❤