Last week, someone whose name I won’t mention, surprised me by cooking dinner. I came home to the delicious smell and rich taste of steaming Potatoes Gratin. I paid my compliments to the chef by licking my plate, not knowing I’d want to hit him with a rolling pin the next day.
I’m not a violent person, but I’m not a morning person either. I need my coffee first thing, and I drink decaf. Go figure.
Saturday morning I made my usual French Pressed coffee: grind two scoops of whole coffee beans, pour two cups of boiling water over them, and steep for three minutes. Then I pour the coffee into my Drama Mama mug and add three tablespoons of Half and Half.
I repeat: add three tablespoons of Half and Half.
Like Sherlock Holmes in search of a dairy product, I looked behind every container in my refrigerator. I plowed my way through soggy, limp lettuce leaves in the vegetable bin.
My personality went from being like Smeagol to Gollum in Lord of the Rings. Instead of a ring, I wanted my precious Half and Half.
Desperate, I added 2% milk into my cup, took two sips of bland, lukewarm coffee, and dumped it down the sink. When the chef whose name I won’t mention woke up, I asked, “Did you use Half and Half in the Potatoes?”
“Yes. Did you need it for your coffee?”
“YES!” I hissed like Gollum.
“Sorry about that.”
I counted to ten and a half and half, and went away to have my quiet time with the Lord. Coffee or no coffee, it’s difficult to read God’s Living Word and not be convicted. “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control…” (Gal. 5:22,23)
My fruit was lacking. But even in this, the Lord used my Half and Half to show how quickly I fall off my holy high horse when I don’t get what I want when I want it. Rather than cry over spilled milk, I confessed and…
Went to the store where I bought a gallon of Half and Half to share with the chef whose name I won’t mention. Only now, he’s afraid to touch my Half and Half. And I think it’s beginning to curdle.