Time for Tea

I went to a coffee shop the other day during my boys’ basketball practice. I ordered tea, which was an unexpected move because I never drink tea. I want to be the kind of person who drinks tea; I just can’t get there.

But I’m not a quitter. I’d had so much coffee already that day, so I decided to give tea (yet another) try.

When I heard my name, I stepped up to the counter and the barista handed me a rectangular wooden tray. The tray held a small glass pot of hot water and loose tea leaves, a blue clay mug, and a digital countdown timer, which she had already started.

Well, isn’t this fancy? I thought, taking the tray. Maybe I could be a tea drinker with this kind of presentation every day.

I found an open table and sat down, the tray in front of me. I watched the timer count down the seconds. Three minutes...two minutes...one minute...thirty seconds…until I heard a ding. Then I slowly poured the tea from the pot into the mug and watched steam rise into the air.

I held the warm cup with both hands and sipped.

My own little ceremony, there in the middle of a loud and crowded coffee shop.

I loved the little glass pot. I loved the big clay mug. But, more than anything, I loved that timer.

It reminded me that sometimes waiting is a necessary ritual.

We’ve grown so accustomed to instant gratification and results that waiting can drive us crazy. It always seems so inefficient and unproductive, like a complete waste of time.

But sometimes, things need to steep. All the way.

Steeping yields a fuller, truer, cup of tea.

That barista knew the need for actual countdown timers, otherwise we’d rush the most important part.

The waiting was worth it. It almost always is.

And, let’s be honest, tea needs all the help it can get.

Like this object-based story telling? My memoir, Piece by Piece: A Life Remembered through Things Lost, is available here. 📖💙