When I was a child my mother and I lived with my grandparents until I was five. As time moved onward my mother remarried and had two more children. As our family grew, my grandparents home got smaller, and when we would to come to visit I would be placed on the couch in their living room to sleep.
When I was finally situated on their couch my grandfather would come and pull up a chair next to me and he would tell me stories. Wonderful stories of his youth and how he was raised in the Great Depression, and there would always be a lesson that would end in laughter. My grandfather always laughed until he cried.
Now, my grandmother was much different. She didn’t share stories, but was an early riser. Each morning she would rise at 5:00 a.m. and I would be sleeping in the living room, and when the kitchen light would go on it was as if a flashlight had been pointed in my face and I would immediately awake. I tried to go back to sleep, but then she would begin her morning ritual. She would grab her old Percolator Coffee Pot from the cupboard and would hit every-other-pan as she was pulling it out. If I wasn’t completely awake when she started I was by the time the coffee pot hit the stove.
She then would pull down her red can of Folger’s Coffee, grab her teaspoon, and she would count how many teaspoons she had placed in her pot. After she finished she would always say, “I always add one too many teaspoons and get it on the floor.”
That was my cue to jump off the couch, clean up the coffee she had spilled, and then she would give me a job. My job was to stand and watch the coffee until it hit the glass on the top of the percolator. Once it did then I was to count to 200, and the coffee would be, “Just right for my liking….” she would say.
Each evening before I go to bed I make my coffee, and then I set the timer so that it goes off right at 5:00 a.m. I used to set it for 4, but a few weeks ago my husband said, “Will you please set it for 5 so you can get a little more sleep?” So, I did. It was interesting because for years I automatically woke up at 4, but once I changed the time for my coffee to arrive I now get up at 5.
This morning I realized that what wakes me up is not the aroma of the coffee, but the aroma of the memory of my grandmother. The best days of my life were spent before the sun rose, and I remember my family waking up hours later and they would say, “Sorry, she woke you up early!”
Taking a sip from my morning coffee— all I can say is, “One teaspoon, two teaspoons, three teaspoons, four… My grandmother always seemed to get coffee on her kitchen floor. The aroma of her memory I seem to find each day, through a simple cup of coffee that reminds me of the way… She used to get up early to spend some time with me, and now whenever I have my coffee I can plainly see… It wasn’t the coffee she was making—but percolating a memory!”
It’s true what they say… Coffee is good for our memory!
Because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high, Luke 1:78
ONWARD TO MY MORNING COFFEE!