Being in a writative mood: Good for me, since it means that I feel restored, cleansed, freed from some lingering pain I had been experiencing over the past several days. Challenging for you, since it means you must read my ramblings!
Not ten minutes ago, the Lord once again reiterated to my heart that He cares about all things in our lives, be they impossibly great or thoroughly insignificant in the whole scope of life.
All I really wanted today was a chai tea ltte. A hot, spicy chai that would warm me from the inside out. A drink filled with flare and sweetened with honey–and milk! Milk and honey–God’s promises. And, on a sentimental note, a hot tub for the tongue, relaxing and soothng those taste buds and my heart until both were satisfied. Sady, I really couldn’t have one of these delights because my blood levels have been a bit high lately and I really didn’t know how a chai would affect them. Besides, only Sister-of-Mine, whom I shall allegorically call Hannah knows how to make good chais, and she wasn’t particularly in the mood to go fussing around with honey and organic milk.
This evening, she was moving mysteriously about the kitchen, whipping up some sort of concoction that required the microwave, but which she otherwise refused to identify. “What are you making?” I kept asking. Every time, the answer was a variation of “I’m not telling!” Horrible images filled my mind: She was making a stinky omlette using a microwave omlette maker she once purchased. Or, she was making a metallic-tasting bowl of canned soup. Or heating up half a can of leftover corn. Or trying to microwave–and explode–a French fry. Yes, she has actually been guilty of such behavior. What can I say? My whimsical side comes out in writing; hers is portrayed in what she microwaves.
“You won’t like what I’m doing!” Hannah protested. But I’ve learned obnoxious-big-sister traits from my obnoxious-little-sister, so I kept insisting that I wanted to know.
Finally, she told me. She had decided that she herself wanted a chai tea latte and had, accordingly, made herself a tiny cup of MY Bhakti chai. She had then decided that she didn’t want it, simply because its fragrance was not to her liking. Sisters!
So it was that I found myself holding the tiniest possible cup of chai, sweetened with honey. Even the cup is beautiful–part of a set that has sentimental value to Hannah and me. The cups have designs on them that remind us of God’s promises to us, personally. The cup is large enough to make me feel that I’ ve enjoyed a hot beverage, but small enough to keep my blood levels in check. Yes, He cares about the small things…