TPL and My Sweet Rib just returned from vacation in New York (née Amsterdam) City. We visited the prettiest baby in the world, Hope Laila, and her parents then railed off to The City of Sweaty Tour Buses. The world was let to grope blindly in the dark without any purges this week. Until today.
Back to therapy me.
Looking at the word ‘bean’ often makes The Purging Lutheran wonder why there was ever a first person who thought drinking milk from a cow was a good idea. Coffee comes from a bean and a bean from a plant and a plant from the dirt. Who first thought to crush that first bean, add hot water, and drink it? No doubt they were derided as a boob but who knew they would earn the everlasting respect of xillions, maybe even tens of xillions, of people from around the world?
We have a cabinette in our kitchen that holds coffee mugs, cups, coffeemaker filters, drinking cups, and so on. Long ago I thought I’d purged the final bag of coffee bought at the now-defunct Marsh supermarket on 116th street. While negotiating the shelves in the cabinette for the best cup for my morning coffee I found yet another bag of stale crushed beans. There is no befuddling explanation here. I think the bag was just lonely and hid among the tall glasses to try to stay in contact with its tribe. Sometimes you just want to be near those you love.
1 Corinthians 13:7
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.