all of my favorite women drink their coffee black

Today, in my continuing adventures on Facebook, I received a (virtual) cup of black coffee from a distant friend. This friend, though I don't know her very well, is - in my estimation - a mothering rock star. She is doing everything the attachment parent does, and she is doing it well, by all appearances. I admire her commitment to motherhood and hold her in high esteem. And she drinks her coffee black.

All of my favorite women drink their coffee black.

"Who taught you how to drink coffee?" - EK

When I was a child, I observed my grandparents' curious ritual of brewing a pot of coffee after every dinner. The adults, members of the elite coffee club by size and years, sat around the table after dinner and sipped the thing that left me out of it. It was my grandfather who taught me to drink coffee. He was the first person to ever let me have a cup. I was ten years old. The coffee tasted more bitter than it smelled, but I loved it, because now, I was in the club.

My paternal grandmother always seemed to have a pot on. Her house always smelled like her perfume (Chloe), her exuberance, and a pot of coffee. Her coffee was always strong and old because she let it sit on the burner for hours and rarely bothered to brew a new batch. She always had a cup near her, and I never saw her finish it. She always drank her coffee black.

"I like my coffee like I like my women ..." - BK

Before I joined the coffee club, I was always told that I couldn't drink it because it would "put hair on my chest." I still hear this phrase tossed around every once in awhile, especially when a cup is eye-poppingly strong. As if the strength of the brew is associated with the strength and characteristics of a man. Now, faithful readers of this blog know beyond a shadow that I am not a feminist, but I resent that this staple of society be likened unto the strength of a man. It seems to me that a warming, empowering, fueling, energizing cup of coffee is more like a woman than a man.

Those are the women I like to be around the most. Warming, empowering, fueling, energizing. Real, earthy, experienced, wise. Educated, and educating. Strong. Comforting. Powerful. Maybe been on the burner a little too long, but reduced by life to the very best parts of her.

"You're a woman after my own heart." - DB

I'm a little particular when it comes to my coffee, but I'm not picky. I like my Starbucks Cinnamon Dolce non-fat no whip latte, but I'll settle for McDonald's Hazelnut iced coffee. I love the affecting aesthetic of a cappuccino after dining out. The most delightful drink I've enjoyed in awhile is the Java Chiller at Sonic. But ask me what my favorite is ... I will not hesitate to answer as the faces of a dozen brave and beautiful ladies flash through my head.

I drink my coffee black.

Prayer for the Acceptance of God’s Will

O Lord, I know not what to ask of Thee. Thou alone knowest what are my true needs. Thou
lovest me more than I myself know how to love. Help me to see my real needs which are
concealed from me. I dare not ask either a cross or consolation; I can only wait on Thee. My
heart is open to Thee; visit and help me, for Thy great mercy’s sake. Strike me and heal me,
cast me down and raise me up. I worship in silence Thy holy will and Thine inscrutable ways.
I offer myself as a sacrifice to Thee. Thou hast said, O Lord, “A man’s mind plans his ways,
but the Lord directs his steps” (Proverbs 16.9). Do not forsake me, O Lord, for I have put all
my trust in Thee. I have no other desire than to fulfill Thy will. Teach me how to pray; pray
Thou Thyself in me. Amen.

(Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow)