When our daughter was in elementary school, I helped coach her travel soccer team. In the colder months, they would play indoors on Saturday morning, and my custom was to make a big travel mug of coffee before we headed off. One Saturday, after the coffee kicked in, the teenage referee made a couple of questionable calls, and I let him know my unhappiness. The opposing coach looked over at me and told me that the ref was doing the best he could, that this young man had challenges of his own. Of course I felt ashamed—how could I have been so insensitive? And I had the thought, “Maybe I should switch to decaf.”
I love coffee. I love the idea of coffee at least as much as coffee itself. I love making it for others, and for myself. My wife is primarily a tea drinker, so that’s my default hot beverage at home. In normal times, it’s fun to drink coffee at church—to brew a pot before a meeting, or to enjoy a cup or two on Sunday after worship. These days, when I’m spending more time at home, I sometimes make a pot for myself, some around mid-morning or noon, after the earlier cups of tea.
And sometimes, it can be a bit much. I find myself feeling a bit jumpy or agitated, and it’s self-induced! “Switch to decaf!,” you might suggest. Which would be a good idea!
We’re living in anxious times, with plenty of bad news to go around. December can bring its own kind of pressures, even in a more normal year. This feels like a good time for us all to lower the bar a bit. To keep things simple. To lower our expectations. To calm things down. To switch to decaf, even. At the very least, to brew smaller quantities of joe.
I love this season of Advent, and its invitation to a time of quiet waiting and watching. Especially this year, I’m feeling drawn to these dark nights and their invitation to slow down and settle in and be here, now. To simply waiting and watching.
O come, O come, Emmanuel. God-with-us, remind us that you are here. That when we are still, we can sense your presence. Right here, right now. Amen.