It was a hipster coffee shop called Thump. They roast their own coffee beans, of course. I bought a bottle of Kombucha because I wanted something cold and because I don’t drink coffee. Don’t ask me how to pronounce it. It promised me strawberry lemonade and delivered an earthy mixture of flavors unfamiliar to my Southern palate. Continue reading “Asking, part 1”
The rocks were covered with green moss.
Above and below.
The water broke in white puffs.
Forward and back.
I opened my eyes.
They blinked in submission to the sun.
But I didn’t care.
It began that day.
I — like you — remember September 11th, 2001. I was a senior in college at Vanderbilt University in Nashville. I was walking across campus from an early class back to my dorm and I overheard something about a plane hitting a building in New York and thought it sounded weird at the time.
It wasn’t until I got back to the suite that I shared with five other girls that I realized the enormity of it all. There was no denying the heaviness.
A month before, I had flown back from Europe to Nashville after a six-week study abroad program in London. That would be the last time I skipped over customs when entering Germany. (But that’s another story for another day.) Continue reading “I remember September 11”
My soul is divided up all over the world because of where the Lord has taken me. More about that in the days to come. One of the biggest reasons for writing on this blog is to connect with those people. To stay connected.
I’m the kind of person who thinks if I’ve ever known you I should always know you. I love people. But, I’m learning, as the Lord takes me to different places and teaches me to build community wherever He has me, that He brings people into my life for different seasons, but He alway provides the people I need. He’s the one who created me to need people. Continue reading “The purpose of this blog (or a series of disclaimers)”
I like coffee shops. The kind that aren’t in a hurry.
I had tea with someone I hope will become a friend. She spent longer than necessary explaining something. When she stopped herself in mid-stream to say: “I’m sorry. I’m not good at short stories. I love to connect.” I knew I could relax.
I’m horrible at small talk. I’m not good at short answers. Continue reading “Andrea doesn’t like coffee, but…”
I know this could be confusing on a blog called Coffee and Condensation.
And, it’s true. I don’t like coffee. I’ve never liked the taste of it. Too bitter.
I used to say the same thing about dark chocolate, but I’ve definitely matured in that department. Life is too short to limit chocolate intake. Continue reading “But Andrea doesn’t like coffee”