Good morning,
God.
God.
As you can see,
Lidia's espresso
is still a part of my Sunday ritual,
so I'm sure you don't mind
if I invite her to join us
if I invite her to join us
under the pear tree
for this morning's quiet reflection.
for this morning's quiet reflection.
Good morning,
Lidia.
I'm so glad you are a member of
my personal communion of saints
who join God and me
for Sunday morning coffee.
I also welcome my grandmas
and other wise women
who are honourary members
of my Sunday morning kaffeeklatsch
-- what other than a kaffeeklatsch
that includes espresso --
would my friend Lidia expect from
her "German lady" friend,
her "German lady" friend,
as you always referred to me?
You know how much I loved espresso in your kitchen.
I still miss you,
Lidia,
but your coffee gives me comfort.
In today's Gospel reading,
Jesus calls himself
the Bread of Life.
(Bread and wine were what he had to work with.)
For me,
bread and wine
are delicious miracles in themselves.
And so is this good coffee,
and the shade of the pear tree,
and God's presence in every last thing
right down to the sub-atomic level,
including the ongoing memory-presence
of you,
Lidia,
and grandmas Eugenia and Dorothea,
and auntie Barbara,
and Aldona and Ruthie,
and all the other good women saints
who have rooms in my heart.
I am grateful.
Thank you,
God,
for this good morning,
and all the good women at our kaffeeklatsch.
Bless all those
they need in these challenging days.
Bless all your people
with the love,
wisdom,
and strength we need
to truly care for one another
and this beautiful earth with which you gift us.
Mmmmm,
and did I thank you
for the coffee?
+Amen.
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