Posts Tagged ‘bitter coffee’

I cannot quite peg myself as introvert or extrovert. I know people who would have definite impressions on the matter, but–inside–I know that this is yet another category where I do not fit well on one side or the other. I have heard it said that you can tell which you are by how you recharge. Do you restore yourself by being alone or by being with other people? Truthfully, both. And if I don’t get both–often in equal measure–I am likely to unravel.

Often, my best learnings and calmings come from solitary moments with my laptop. When characters grown from life experience with other people and lessons whispered in the dark by God finally make their way into a cohesive, understandable context on the pages of a story I write. This is where I soar. These blissful moments are most often achieved at times when I have simultaneous access to inner-silence and the energy of life. See, I find my best restoration in the steady beats of Lindsey Stirling coming through my headphones as I sip bitter coffee in the corner of Starbucks, hoarding an outlet to the disapproval of other writers and students. And when I leave, I leave refreshed.

Introvert? Maybe. Extrovert? Maybe. Both? Probably. Weird? Definitely. Me? Completely. And that’s good enough.

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It was not a weekend like any other weekend.

First let me say that I have never enjoyed Fathers’ Day so much. After a few years of illness preventing me from fishing with my dad, being able to join my family in the woods for the crazy-hard trek to the brook, the downpour of rain, and the bug-swarmed picnic looked far more like a privilege than like a familial requirement. There was something magical about catching my one small trout, taking photos of my nephews with a water-proof camera, wearing my fishing lure earrings, and holding onto my dad as the current tried to pull me downstream. My brother-in-law was not so lucky. In an attempt to regain his wife’s bobber, the brook sucked him under. He came back up, drenched and with a smile on his face. I was the one who took the plunge on the way back out from the stream. In good Fathers’ Day form–despite all forecasts of sunshine–the heavens let loose a downpour. It was another half an hour before we even thought about leaving. By the time we did, my feet were so frozen I stumbled and took a trip down a mudslide.

What I lacked in speed, my brother-in-law more than made up for. By the time we met him at the car we realized a big old black bear had been standing in the middle of the road studying him for at least a minute as he broke down fishing poles. It was a creature of strength and beauty–and I was all too glad when it decided to run from us. As we sat around a table at a little gas station in nowhere drinking bitter coffee, eating vanilla ice cream, and dreaming about life I was struck by how happy I could be–dampy, grimy, exhausted, and all.

Compare that grimy, wonderful Sunday fishing trip with dinner-and-a-movie with my family and six of my favorite Belfast, Maine people. It was a much classier event, that Friday night premiere of ‘Man of Steel’. Comfy chairs; lots of laughter; yummy food; good fellowship. Both have their place in life. Both remind me that I need to keep fighting to hold onto the people I love. Both remind me to be grateful for every day God has given me–even if those days are full of runny noses, mudslides, and bitter coffee. Those bumps on the road can make a day much richer.

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