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31 Days of Free Writes #Brew

Brew

I found this word a bit of a challenge to be creative with.  I can only think of a few ways to use the word brew.  And I'll go with the obvious, coffee and tea.

Most people either enjoy drinking coffee or they don't. Perhaps its the same with tea.  They really like it or they don't. My sister makes me laugh because she hates tea, but recently she told me she drinks it whenever she is angry at work.  I enjoy cold tea, but never hot.  Unless I'm sick and in need of honey sweetened hot tea.
Both of these drinks are comfort drinks that people have been sipping for hundreds of years.
They are communal drinks that we share together during times of soft talking, laughter, or heart to hearts.  They are drinks that set us in rhythm.  A rhythm of rising and reflecting or of resting and relaxing.
I remember that my parents regularly drank coffee, but on the occasion that we had to go somewhere at night my parents would take my sister and I to the donut shop and let us sip their coffee.  My sister and I smiled as we gingerly sipped the coffee and snacked on the donuts.  We felt a bit grown up.
Now when I go to my mom's house and she offers coffee she quickly either says, "I'll make it to your strength," or, "I'll make you your own pot."  She knows my sister and I can't quite enjoy her colored water that she blends in far too much vanilla carmel creamer.
My sister is the exact opposite.  The months she lived at our house had us waking up to the smell of extremely noxious coffee.  It was always dark and Latin.  And one cup made me shake.  I noticed that she never actually finished a cup.  I never saw her drink past half.
One of my girls drinks coffee with me.  My second girl.  When she was just a very blonde three year old with the sweetest smile she woke up always earliest and lightly padded down the stairs.  It was our time.  Just she and I while her sisters slept.  She asked for cups of coffee and I let her have a  few splashes with generous cream.  I remember how we laughed as she quietly drank it.
It was our connecting time.  Mommy and a three year old, pajamas and a baby cup of coffee colored cream.
When middle was three 
She looked forward to these moments.  If her older sister ever got up before her she was disappointed.  We had missed our usual early hour whisper date.  
Coffee or hot tea is what we share with people we want to linger with, people we show hospitality to, or what we use to wake us up in the morning and anticipate the day with or slow down and reflect at afternoon tea time.  Whenever I meet someone who does a tea time it always makes me smile.  That they still use a tea pot and that they pause for a few moments to reflect, quiet, and drink a cup of tea.
My favorite part is the warmth factor.  I love that when my fingers wrap around my cup of choice they almost burn.  Or thats what I want.  I want it quite hot, almost too hot.  I like it best that way.  No cold coffee for me.
I smile when I think of a missionary we know who sits outside every morning in the steaming humidity clogging atmosphere of Nicaragua and downs his coffee.  The heat doesn't stop him.  This summer my sister came back from Nicaragua with a bag of rich Nicaraguan grown coffee. I wanted that bag to be bottomless.  That stuff is so rich and soo good.
Sometimes my husband who doesn't enjoy coffee or tea will leave me a short note by the coffee pot and get it ready for me to flip on in the morning.  It's a small gesture that means a lot to me.
This was a special morning that I found three notes next to coffee 

Do you like coffee or tea?  And what combination? Does it calm you down or rev you up?
Or have you lost so much sleep over the past decade that you can drink a cup of coffee and pass out? That's me... :)
 

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Morning

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Morning

Morning seems sacred to me.  Having nocturnal children kind of robs me of the mornings I like to enjoy in silence and quiet thought.
For years I would get up at least two hours before anyone so I could just be by myself and be quiet.
My parents are early morning people that like to eat full breakfasts and watch the sunrise on the porch. There's something exciting about watching the day open its' eye lids with the first glints of sun playing on the horizon edge.  Pale blues and periwinkles rouse us out of pitch black and many times morning rises in strength with extravagant colors.  It signals something new.  A new twenty four hours.  A new chance. Kind of like a new little slice of life.  We are mesmerized at first at the idea of new.  It's beautiful, holy, and hopeful.
Morning breaks the night.
I love that Cat Steven's hymn Morning has Broken.  I've always thought the words were so beautiful.
Especially the last phrase, "God&…