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

Hi, My Name is Miriam....

Hi, my name is Miriam, and I am a chat-oholic.

Several months ago, I got turned onto to online chatting via a fun, little website by the name of "My Life Is Average." Honestly, I had never been in a chat room or done anything even close to chatting (well, other than on facebook). So, I thought, "What the heck? I'm 21; a legal adult. I should have a chatroom experience at least once in my life. Why not?" I clicked the "begin chatting" button, and so began my obsession.

The first guy I chatted with was some guy by the name of Sam. We talked for at least an hour or two on one of those rare there's-not-much-to-do days. He was a cool guy, 24, from New York--an engineer. After talking about everything from laundry detergent to movies, he asked my name. I told him, and his next question both surprised and excited me. He admitted that he had never even heard of my name before, and he asked how my parents came up with it. Cool!

Unlike most preteens and teenagers, I always liked my name...and I still do. I proceeded to tell him that my name was from the Bible (in Exodus 2, to be exact), and I gave him a brief synopsis of Moses's sister. We spent the next hour or so talking about spiritual things. I was truly amazed that God could use something as random as a creepy chat site to allow his word to be shared. In short, we exchanged e-mail addresses (a random address that doesn't have my last name or any of my personal info on it, of course). Through our three month correspondence, God opened up an opportunity to share the gospel and answer a lot of his questions. I don't know if we'll continue a relationship or not, but I know that our meeting was no accident.

Since then, I have had countless other opportunities to talk about Jesus with random people. Adham--a Muslim from Egypt; Martin--Canada; Rajapat--India; Allan--Kentucky....and many, many more. Someone once asked me why I was on the site. I love when people ask that. It opens up so many opportunities. I responded, "Everyone wants a witness for their lives. Everyone needs to know that their life counts. Obviously, a lot of lonely people are on chatting sites--I don't mind being a shoulder to cry on. In fact, that's why I'm here." I know it sounds cheesy (just call me "Velveeta!"), but I don't believe in coincidences, and I certainly don't think God is ever surprised or caught off guard.

So, for now, I'm: Miriam, 21, East Coast.