Drink of Choice?

I deeply enjoy going to coffee shops. Shocking, right? How unique of me!

But it's true. Whether I'm visiting my siblings or going to an appointment in a new town, you can bet I'll try a coffee shop there every single time. To someone who doesn't get that experience often, it is truly one of my favorite little joys...even if the beverage itself is less than ideal. 

My favorite thing, however, isn't usually the drink or even the atmosphere. It's getting to ask the question: what do you like here? And as someone who isn't picky, I almost always ask the barista for a recommendation (only if there is no one behind me in line! I can read a room!). I love the connection of it--the way I am suddenly less of a stranger because I know your drink of choice. 

That sounds incredibly unimportant at first glance, but it just isn't to me. Because I really do want to know. What do you like? 

 I overfeel, and I overcare, and I sometimes think that the word "sensitive" is an insult. Then I'm reminded of the way it feels to hear my baby niece laugh or the peace that comes when it rains for the first time in ages, and I'm suddenly grateful that God crafted me this sensitive way. 

And as I grow, and the more the Spirit molds me, the more I pray I can see the person behind the counter and think of the nail-pierced hands of Jesus. To see everyone around me as someone worth dying for, because Someone did.

I don't know if it matters if I smile at a person across the room or compliment a pair of shoes or ask what you get here, but I hope it does, because I mean it. Because I want to love you the way my Father does.