Tea and Me

The eastern sky is bruised this morning, mottled rose and purple. Like it did battle in the dark hours or collided with some celestial bed post. I watch it pass through various stages of healing until it clears, perfect in the risen sun.

A ribbon of mist borders the hem of the woods, then rises and moves towards me. And it evaporates as soon as it hears the camera click.

I don’t like that I can see the traffic on the highway across the harvested field. I do like that I can see the deer again, gleaning. They line up in front of me, standing at attention like soldiers in review, but they are too far away to take good pictures with the little girl camera. When the flash goes off, they startle and bound off waving white flags. Yet I still see them just below the rise, clinging to the edge of the woods, and later they dare to come out again into the open. They decide I’m not really a threat.

I try to capture blue jays, but my pictures aren’t as good as Jessica’s. She must have a big girl camera.

My husband comes out and kisses me goodbye. He asks what I’m going to do when it rains. I say that’s why we have a covered porch. And, anyway, I have an umbrella.

And to myself I wonder what I’m going to do when it rains.

I realize I’ve not had any coffee for two days. At all. And I don’t miss it. I’ve been sipping on tea.

I have baggies filled from a bin at the health food store with peaceful names like Sunday Morning (black Madagascar, bourbon, vanilla, and chrysanthemum), Enlightened White (white with tangerine and orange peel and natural oils), and Peaceful Peninsula (green tea with apple, cherry, blueberry, raspberry, rose hips, and currant.)

I have my faithful standby of green jasmine and also some chamomile and some Darjeeling. And some chai for a sometimes treat.

I feel healthy while I drink it.

I think it’s healing to the bruises of head and heart.

And I think my heart beats slower.

A dainty biscuit or a sliver of dark chocolate with tea seems so much more elegant than Oreos dunked in coffee.

Anyway, this morning it’s just a Lipton green with mandarin orange in a cute little pyramid bag. And a spoonful of nuts and raisins.

I hope I’m not sorry about the nuts.

An idea for a book comes to mind. A poetry book of all things. With a theme and everything.

And my heart beats faster.

I never, ever, ever thought I’d dabble around in poetry.

That’s just nuts!

I’m excited to go into town to visit a new shop today, although it’s not new-new. I just haven’t been there yet.

Tea and Vintage Treasures–From Hoity-Toity to Shabby Chic.

But they are closed on Mondays. I press my nose against the glass to peer into the store and admire the window displays.

I’ll have to go back another day.

So I’ll go home and have another cup of tea.

Perhaps a nice chai latte under a tree.

And as I sit and sniff and sit and sip, I think how grateful I am that His storehouse of healing is always open, night and day, 24/7. And that I can see His touch and sense His presence in the simplest things.

And it strikes me that I sit on holy ground.

With Him.

I’m late to the party, but I’m celebrating tea with Ann Kroeker.

And joining L.L. Barkat at Seedlings in Stone for another On, In, and Around Mondays.

Comments

  1. says

    I have to be honest, I’m a little envious of your photography and writing skills. You tie them together in such an awesome way.

  2. says

    I can smell the chai…I can sense the holy.

    Is that silence best soaked in alone, with only the Creator as company?

    Will it break the beauty of the moment if I quietly settle down next to you? I can bring my own cup of black tea.

    Can silence be shared?

  3. says

    Oh wow. So beautiful. Your writing and the pics. I love how you call your camera a “little girl” camera. My camera is not a big girl camera…not yet. I’m still in the awkward middle school phase :)
    Thank you for linking to me. I’ve been thinking a lot about the deep end since your comment. God is speaking in themes. Can’t wait to share what has been stirring.
    Happy Monday.
    j.

    • Sandra says

      I’ve seen that, too. The speaking in the themes. I love how He does that, and I love doing life in the deep with you.

      I have my eye on a tween camera . . .

  4. says

    This is just yummy, Sandra. I wouldn’t mind shopping with you when your shabby-chic shop is open!

    I wanted to stop by my book club folks and check in. There’s a little confusion with the new site…just making sure ya’ll know where we are now! Glad I stopped by…now I’m thirsty for tea. :)

    • Sandra says

      I would love shopping with you. Shabby-chic or cowboy hats.

      I hope, hope, hope to get my post done today. So late this week. :(

  5. says

    I am fascinated by the tiny alterations you are experiencing day by day. Tea is a slower drink than coffee. Look how the yard is changing you. And maybe, just maybe… the God in the yard. :)

    • Sandra says

      You have inspired me to action with your sticky stories. ;)

      And my tea was iced by the end of my yard time this morning.

  6. Brenda Finkle says

    Loved your post. Tea is the great equalizer – it does allow you slow down, ponder as the wisps of steam rise heavenward. I was there with you in the yard watching the deer as they flicked their ears and tails. Autumn is a glorious time. Your opening sentence was lovely. The sky was bruised. Wow. GBY

    • Sandra says

      I’m so glad you came by, Brenda. I’m going to need to get more quilts and chairs for everyone. Tea party in my yard. ;)

  7. Brenda says

    My heart feels a little healed just reading this. Maybe you inspired the tea switch last night. Of course this morning I’m drinking coffee with a shot of espresso so who knows. Balance perhaps. I’m putting it on my bucket list to come to Michigan and sit in the yard and drink tea with you and talk about Jesus. LOVE your posts. Gifted my friend. Gifted. XO