Raindrops in My Coffee

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This morning the sky was gray and the sidewalk was darkened with a mysterious rain which must have come in the night. For some reason, however, the universe was generously sparing me from getting drenched by sprinkling out a light, sporadic rain instead of the thunderous downpour which I assumed had just ceased.

I was drudging to my 9 am, one hand placed coolly in my pocket and the other grasping my coffee mug. I held the mug away from my body and fixated my eyes on the liquid contents, doing everything in my power to be sure that my gingerly placed steps were sufficient to keep the coffee in my mug and off of my Vans below.

As I stared down at the light brown of my coffee (which was more French vanilla creamer than coffee) raindrops began to fall. They cascaded down, making gentle splashes and subsequent ripples throughout the contents of my mug. I couldn’t help but smile on this dreary Monday morning.

“Raindrops in my coffee. How poetic,” I thought to myself as I continued.

Maybe this is a stretch, to personify my coffee and the raindrops that penetrated it, but there’s just this perpetuating idea about the raindrops in my coffee that I just can’t set aside.

Sometimes I search for the Lord’s voice in the earthquake and windstorm and writing on the wall, but in so many different ways he speaks to my heart in the gentlest of whispers. And this gentle whisper came in the form of a raindrop.

It was a tender and loving reminder of his unfailing faithfulness that simply and gracefully said, “Let me love you on this dreary Monday morning.” On any other day, I might not have given this thing a second thought.

But today was a day where I was really in-tune to the hurt that perpetuated my heart.  It was one of those mornings where you don’t know how you got out of bed or why you got out of bed, for that matter. The weight of the semester’s demands atop of my battle with maintaining relationships and emotional stability were pressing down on me a little extra as I brewed my morning coffee.

So, though it’s simple and maybe incidental, these raindrops in my coffee were a small reminder to let His love saturate my heart like the rain saturated my coffee. Even on the most lifeless and dreary of days the Lord is faithful and near and he hears my cries.

God is so good. So be it (Amen).

 

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2 thoughts on “Raindrops in My Coffee

  1. “Sometimes I search for the Lord’s voice in the earthquake and windstorm and writing on the wall, but in so many different ways he speaks to my heart in the gentlest of whispers.”
    fully agree, The Lord is so good!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So often it is the gentle whisper he uses to speak to us rather than the raging storm. I think being in tune with the Holy Spirit is learning to listen for the small, gentle whispers in our daily existence. When I do that, I find that there’s no such thing as a mundane moment. Thank you for the reminder! Beautiful words.

    Liked by 1 person

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