As a young girl, I always swore I would never start drinking coffee—who would want coffee breath? Once I did start drinking coffee, however, it was definitely a love affair. I even remember going to bed at times just thinking about that fresh cup of coffee the next morning. Perhaps it was really about the quiet time in the morning, where I would have time to pause, reflect, journal, pray and simply “be.”

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had full schedules. As a kid, I was involved in almost anything and everything. I am not exaggerating. I even held down a job while balancing many other hobbies and extracurriculars. It’s no surprise that in my adult life, I’ve continued much of this same lifestyle. Much of what I have always done has involved other people, so there is something about that precious time alone where I can regroup, ground, connect with God on a deeper level and fill my cup—yes, pun intended. As a mom, it wasn’t just my schedule. The kids had full lives too. Quiet moments became few and far between. I still tried to make time for this quiet cup of coffee time.

On one visit to my parents, I went downstairs to the kitchen to brew a good cup of java and low and behold, there was already coffee in the pot. I looked around and found my dad sitting in the sunroom, sipping his coffee. 

“Mind if I join you,” I asked. 

“I would love it,” he said. 

From that moment forward, my dad and I enjoyed early morning coffee whenever we visited each other. I would anticipate and look forward to our early morning coffees. I would listen to whatever was on his mind and he would listen to me. Sometimes we just sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the stillness of the early morning. One Christmas, my dad had decorated the trees on the terrace with Christmas lights and there was a gorgeous snowfall. Honestly, it was the prettiest I had ever seen their home. As we sipped our coffee, we just sat and appreciated the snow, the lights, the snowflakes gently coming down, and the fact that once again, we had time together. Precious time together.

Recently, my folks came for a visit. On the first morning, I tiptoed down the hallway past my parents’ room and got the coffee pot started. It wasn’t 5 minutes later that dad emerged. 

“Coffee?” he said. 

And we sat in the comfy chairs for almost two hours before anyone else got up. I had tears many times in our conversation. Not because I was sad. It’s because I was so grateful for this time. These moments. These small pieces of time that matter so much. The fact that we can still share coffee. My dad shared how he has gotten up for early morning coffee by himself for as long as he can remember. I told him I do the same. We both talked about it being our time of peace, connection, reflection and much more. We also agreed that sharing it with each other makes it even more precious and special. How does it get any better than this?

Do you enjoy early morning coffee or something similar? I’d love to hear about it.