But first, milk.

the details of my coffee habit you didn't realize you needed

Photo by Shirley Tittermary on Unsplash

First, I add milk—to my coffee, I mean.

Wait. You have the wrong idea. The image in your mind is all mixed it.

It’s not like: “Yeah, I’ll take milk and sugar. But make the milk hit first.”

It’s like—well, picture this: an empty mug. Then milk. Splash. Then the coffee. Mix mix mix.

Makes sense, right?

Of course not. You’re like, “What? Wait—why would I care? And also, what?”

That’s fair. Good response. I’m with you. I mean, imagine the folks behind me in a buffet line! I mess it all up. I’m all like, “Let’s see if we can’t rearrange the coffee tray order into chaos.” Elbowing old folks out of the way with my curiously empty mug, bypassing the tanks of coffee so I can dump one of those why is this left out at room temperature isn’t it dairy packets into the recesses of my porcelain chalice.

What a nut! Now you’re like, “Don’t get behind that guy in the coffee line, amiright? What a freakin’ weirdo.”

Easy now.

Here’s the thing: It makes sense. Why put the coffee in first, then add the milk—or whatever non-dairy liquid magic you prefer—and have to stir it with a spoon? Why not let the coffee stir it up? Why waste the spoon? Save the time; save the planet. You’re already on your way.

Here’s the other thing: I used to work at Dunkin Donuts (I mean, back when “Donuts” was actually in the name.) I worked there a long time. I won awards for the speed and dexterity with which I commanded the drive thru window. (Fact check: I won no awards, but I did win two free tickets to Hershey Park because one time I did a pretty good job managing the aforementioned drive thru window.)

Anyway, I learned a little about how to move coffee fast during my Dunkin days. There was—at least, all those years ago—a nifty machine that you kinda just slid the coffee cup across. You hit the sugar button (swish—sugar!) and then the milk button (splash—milk!) and then pulled the coffee lever, and it all just kind of mixed together, perfect, done, out the window you go. Don’t spill. It’s hot.

Then I started drinking coffee (with gusto, I might add) and figured that’s how coffee got made. Why not start with the milk? It’s not like I’m standing in a buffet line every day of my life! Think of the spoons I don’t have to wash! Think of the perfect dissemination of milk to coffee!

Anyway, here’s the actual thing: That little curious insight into a very particular moment of my own life trajectory (i.e. splashing milk at Dunkin) explains why I do an ordinary thing I do every single day of my life (sometimes three or four times). Isn’t that interesting?

(No? Okay, well, geez, you’ve read pretty far for that to be your answer.)

And I wonder this: How many little (or big!) things do we see in one another— curiosities that make us raise an eyebrow in wonder or worry? How many times do we ask for the totally random, weird little backstory that might shed some light on a quirk or an oddity?

More likely, we turn up our noses in judgment. “What a weirdo,” we say instead. “Get in the back of the buffet line and fill your coffee like a normal person.”

It’s easier that way. It’s easier to judge than to wonder. It’s easier to assume than to cross the bridge of story.  

And another thing:

• If you want to check out some other pieces of writing of mine that came out this week, you can read about my cats (also: see below) over at “Now Discern This,” or — equally compelling — read about my leaky roof over at IgnatianSpirituality.com.

  

• Check out this episode of “AMDG: A Jesuit Podcast,” where we hear from my friend Fr. Brian Christopher, SJ — superior of the Jesuits in Belize — about what it means to engage in the “ministry of failure.” The guy’s the real deal and has just awesome insights.

Hey, finally, don’t forget about my upcoming book from Brazos Press, “Finding Peace Here and Now: How Ignatian Spirituality Leads to Healing and Wholeness.” You can preorder now!