This morning I drank coffee. I’m not usually a coffee drinker, but while in Salt Lake visiting my brother and his wife and their daughter, I had 1/2 a cup of coffee each morning, because Nikki has delicious creamer in my favorite flavor, Toffee Nut. Who can pass up fresh coffee with creamy Toffee Nut?. My favorite part of coffee with Toffee Nut is the delicious aftertaste. At first, it’s super sweet and has that bitter coffee bite perfectly balanced, but after you let it rest in your mouth and swallow, then you get the nutty bite mixed with the coffee that you can taste and smell as you exhale … mmm.
There are other aftertastes that are pretty gross. Like California or Arizona tap water. It makes me gag just thinking about it. As an Oregon water snob, it’s just impossible to drink that tap water without plugging my nose or diluting it with juice or something. You don’t notice the water’s that bad when it goes down, but then the aftertaste … that’s where it hits you between the eyes. No thanks.
But what I love about some experiences are that you sometimes don’t have the full appreciation of how sweet or profound or wonderful something is until right afterwards, until that glorious aftertaste. This week, as you know, I spent in Salt Lake City, Utah, with Kris and Nikki and Jennika, their adorable 7-month-old daughter. Now back home this afternoon, I mused about the trip while I did the laundry, unpacked clothes, and tidied the house. I realized that I experienced zero stress while on this trip. Now, get this. I traveled alone with a wild and crazy 15-month-old boy who never sat still the entire 4 days. And yes, I am tired right now and happy to have my own bed. But I experienced this inexpressable joy the entire time that I cannot explain except for the grace of God. On both plane rides (and the one home was pretty hairy!), I had this overwhelming joy and peace. Even on the way home, when we almost missed our flight (they had already pulled the ramp away from the plane and started the safety instructions on board!), ran the entire length of the terminal, when Dutch’s ears were painful and he wouldn’t eat or drink so in desperation I nursed my enormous 15-month-old boy, stretching his legs out on the poor young man to my right, doing my best with my little sweater as a cover-up, letting Dutch’s head hang out into the aisle (!). It was so much fun! And I think part of it, as I think about it, was that it was a rare jewel of a time for Dutch and me to have together, must mommy and son. Now I’m not complaining, but just because of our living situation, I don’t often feel like I don’t get those special “just us” times, or, come to think of it, perhaps I do but I just don’t pay attention enough to savor them when they come. But this time I savored them. Last night, Dutch couldn’t sleep, and after listening to him scream for 20 minutes while I lay face down on my bed, I finally asked God, “God, what should I do?” and I know I heard Him say, “Go get him.” So I went in and held him, went over to the rocking chair (this is the boy who REFUSES to be rocked) and was amazed as he melted in my arms as I gently rocked him. Two minutes later he was alseep.
And because I didn’t have meals to make, homework to do (well, I did but I ignored it), and a house to clean, guess what I did? Played! We played trucks, we wrestled in the grass outside, we swung, we went down the slide, we just played, and I enjoyed and savored every second of it.
I think the other part of the absolute sweetness of the trip was the fact that my brother and his wife are some of the most remarkable people on earth. Sincere, genuine people who love the Lord with all their hearts and give themselves to bless others. Their house is comfortable, big enough to plenty of guests, but not stuffy or showy. Nikki had planned all my favorite meals, had the pantry stocked with our favorite treats. Worship music gently plays at all times. A basket full of trucks occupied Dutch, and Nikki doesn’t bat an eyelash at having her house strewn with little boy toys. We hiked Devil’s canyon, saw a herd of elk, ate a post-hike feast at Denny’s, walked along the Jordan river, played at a litle park, did a short hike down to a partially ice-covered beautiful pristine little lake with ducks, surrounded by enormous slabs of granite. And last night Kris and Nikki skipped their Bible study, to stay home with me. Both babies were exhausted, so after they fell asleep, we stayed up until 10:30pm talking, eating my favorite thing in the world, sweet mango with sticky rice.
When we got to the airport, they parked and came with me to help with our luggage (stroller, car seat, suitcase!) and followed me all the way to security. As I kissed them goodbye and watched them walk away, I was thankful for a son so I could kneel and hide my face next to his while I cried. I cry not because I’m sad that they are in Utah. I’m happy for that. It’s where they belong. I can see that. But I cry just because I love them so much. I’m in awe of a God who is so good to give me such a wonderful brother and sister-in-law. And as I kissed my boy, I sat in awe of a God who gave me such a delicious little boy. And as I sit here right now, with Dutch fast sleep in his bed, I anticipate finally seeing my husband, who is on his way home from a retreat. Coming home from being apart is one of my favorite parts of marriage — I don’t like being apart, but the coming home part sure is fun!
I know–this is all over the road, but I guess I can just agree with the psalmist who said “my cup runneth over” (Ps. 23:5). Indeed mine does. And as I drink of its fullness, I savor the sweetness of all that God has done and who He is. And today I savor the delicious aftertaste of time with my brother, with Nikki, with Jennika. Of time with my little son. And of the days ahead, because “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever” (Ps. 23:6).