I have a friend who is truly amazing. She roasts her own coffee and it is beautiful. We tried yesterday to roast our own coffee and it was not beautiful. It looked nothing like hers. I also imagine that it tastes nothing like hers.
Unfortunately, my home-roasted coffee beans were intended to be gifts, so before I risked giving them away, I decided that we better taste test. J does not drink coffee, so I offered to take one for the team and try a mug from each of the batches (regular and decaf).
As I was brewing the first pot this morning, our friend Daniel, who is a temporary housemate, woke up and came into the kitchen. Lucky for me, Daniel drinks his coffee black.
Unfortunately for him, this coffee was not black. It was brown. And not a very dark brown.
Still, Daniel gave me props for it, though I had my doubts. As I got the second pot ready, Daniel prepared his breakfast, and we headed into the dining room table to sit and drink our less-than-black coffee while pot number two brewed.
Daniel & I sat and we talked. We ate and we talked. We drank coffee and we talked. We talked about being frustrated with our inability to care about everything in the world, and change everything in the world, and make a difference with everything we see that is messed up with the world. And we talked about the difficulties of knowing things aren’t right but not being able to visualize a solution. We talked about the call to be a Christian and how difficult it is. We talked about “giving to Caesar what is Caesar’s” not being an excuse to live our lives the way we want to live them. We talked about the “lesser of two evils” as not being a solution when it comes to voting. I talked about an article I’d recently read about the history of agriculture in Haiti; Daniel talked about his first-hand experience with mountain-top removal and fishing in polluted waters in eastern Kentucky where he grew up. We pulled out the laptop to look up the ‘Better World Shopper‘ website to see where Fallmart ranked (grade: F) and to look up Kroger Corporation to see if it’s on par with Fallmart (those are the only two grocery options in our little town).
All of this over one cup of coffee.
By the time the second pot was brewed, our trusty housemate Adam had gotten out of bed and meandered into the kitchen. He got to try the decaf roast, which was thankfully a bit darker and masquerading as a satisfactory cup of coffee. I told Adam that we’d been sitting and solving all of the world’s problems while he slept.
Solving the world’s problems.
Well, maybe not.
But some days I don’t wonder if a little dose of community in the morning really could solve the world’s problems.
And even now, most of the time, I’m surprised to find community right there at the dining room table, as if it was just waiting for me.
Maybe it is.