A Cup of Tea

There are few joys in life that measure up to the innocence and pleasure of a hot cup of tea. There is something so cleansing and refreshing in such a small and somewhat trivial ritual. I think I first began drinking tea when I was 10 or so. My dad, an avid tea and coffee drinker, brought home some green tea. He asked if I wanted a cup, and before I knew it, I was hooked. My sisters appalled the taste, but I knew, even then, that tea would become very special to me.

One summer I had the opportunity to work on the leadership team for a summer camp. I was so excited about the chance to serve in such a capacity, but reality set in faster than I could ever have imagined. Before the first week was over, I was struggling with fears and frustrations. I was the youngest one on leadership and I had one of the most challenging groups the camp had ever seen. How was I supposed to lead a team of women when I didn't feel adequate?

After a particularly trying day, I broke down in the office and wept. Thankfully, I was greeted with a dear friend's sympathy. She made me a cup of tea, and we talked about everything that evening. From our hopes and dreams, to our vices and failures. I had known her from the year before, but in those moments, I knew we had passed an invisible barrier from friends to much, much more. Occasionally, I feel homesick as I sip a cup of Tazo Passion tea--homesick for her.

I have one set of living grandparents, but they don't even know my name...sad really. I wish daily that I had grandparents, especially a grandfather, I would have loved the tar out of him. I don't live near any family either, so the first time I went to my mentor's house, it was an new experience for me. She doted on me like I see grandparents and aunts dote upon their beloved family members. She made me biscuits and listened to me tell silly stories of little importance. It was so lovely I could have cried. The last thing she did before she kissed me good night was make me a cup of piping hot peach tea. I curled my fingers around the over sized cup and breathed in the fragrant steam. The world seems to soften when seen through the steam of a cup of tea.

I read an article in high school about a woman who associated letters with colors. She remembered people's names because she remembered their colors. (I did the same things as a child, so I knew immediately what she was talking about.) And I had a friend tell me, "We don't remember everything that people tell us, but we do remember how they make us feel when we are around them." What a wise statement. I merge the two ideas about people. I often think of a particular color or sensation when I think about a person, but sometimes the feeling I get when I think of a friend is more than just a memory of how their hands feel when they pat my back. Sometimes, I get the dearest feeling sensation when their name arises...the intimacy of sharing a cup of tea.

As I sit at my computer, sipping my peppermint tea and composing these last few sentences, I realize that their are few people that I feel close enough to share this sacred experience with. Just as a woman selects who she will take wedding dress shopping with her, so I select who will be invited to share a cup of tea with me.

"Tea! thou soft, thou sober, sage, and venerable liquid,... thou female tongue-running, smile-smoothing, heart-opening, wind-tippling cordial, to whose glorious insipidity I owe the happiest moment of my life, let me fall prostrate. " ~Colley Cibber, Lady's Last Stake

"You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me. " ~C.S. Lewis