Drinking Coffee on a Snowy Day

It’s been more than a year since we got this kind of snow in Denver. And it’s fun to see how we fall in love all over again with the blanket of white.

If this happens every week for the next eight weekends, it will be a different story. But for today, we are a city of mostly very delighted people.

It’s Sunday morning, and we went to church last night for this very reason: to make today about what it is about: a glorious savoring.

We all slept in. (Except for Peter. Because dogs.) (And apparently my delicate snoring.  But I don’t want to talk about that.)

On the weekends, we forego our morning routine of protein shakes and nutrition. Instead, I wake to the smell of bacon, as Peter makes his specialty brunch, the meal he is most known for: Egg-in-a-Hole. Well, that’s what most people would call it. But decades ago, his kids named them “Little Minis,” and the name has stuck with sacred fortitude. They are the mark of the weekend.

For this morning, I am ignoring the socks and laundry and dishes.

I’m letting myself feel the day with all of my senses. Seeing, touching, tasting, hearing, and smelling the day.

I am swirling the coconut creamer in my coffee.

I am watching the snow fall in thick flakes that are made for the movies.

The puppies are bounding in the snow, all except for our old girl who is much too tired for such shenanigans.

The blended scents of our candles: Peter’s Pine Forest alongside my Pumpkin Nutmeg Pie.

The one side of the toast that is darker, rougher, scratchier on my throat.

The soft velour my jammies, that are delightful in the day and way-too-hot at night.

And delight of all delights, Tyler is practicing You Are My Sunshine on his ukulele. It’s my new favorite sound.

This is a day that the Lord has made.

I will be still
and doodle in my books
and listen to my thoughts
and drink my beverages
and stay warm
and delight
and rejoice in it.

***

Mysteriously and wondrously, God revels even more than we do in the slight bitterness of tea,
the feel of sunshine on skin, a ripe avocado, a perfect guitar lick, or a good plot twist.

Pleasure is our deep human response to an encounter with beauty and goodness.
In these moments of pleasure – of delight, enjoyment, aw, and revelry –
we respond to God impulsively with our very bodies:
‘Yes, we agree! Your creation is very good.’

~ Tish Harrison Warren, Liturgy of the Ordinary