I guess I should’ve figured there would be a long line at this time in the morning. And to compound my growing impatience, I’m all but sure that those ahead of me that are closer to 20 than to something, age wise, will demonstrate to all within earshot their mastery of the many permutations of roasted bean beverages as they order micro-nuanced variations of a simple latte. Bravissimo, Logan, you actually ordered a single drink using 19 syllables!
You ever consider your stream of consciousness while spending time in Starbucks? Why does that guy think it is acceptable to take off his flip flops and put his bare feet on the cushion of the stool in front of him? At least that isn’t as bad as the woman who, after her morning run, wrapped herself in a beach towel and proceeded to sit, STILL SWEATING PROFUSELY, on an upholstered chair! And did Logan just learn that he would need to pay for his order at some point, as he starts the process of digging through his pockets for a partially used gift card and a handful of nickels (nickels, for crying out loud!), deciding, after musing contemplatively, to tender his debit card to satisfy the balance?
I’ve seen the girl in front of me a few times, and she always gets a caramel macchiato. She knows what she wants, unlike those that realize the giant display behind the barista is a menu, and has been there the entire time they were standing in line, not sure what to order. But for some reason, she orders a black coffee. A. Black. Coffee. Audible gasps were heard throughout the cafe as patrons tried to come to grips with this mystically simple order. Surely, they could not have heard what they think they just heard. “Excuse me?” the barista inquired, looking as though she had just seen a Day-Glo orange unicorn moonwalk through the establishment.
At that moment, I wondered why she ordered a plain old cup o’ joe. Was she economizing? Did her doctor tell her to cut down on her sugar intake <<<shudder>>>? Or was it for no other reason than she felt like having a regular coffee? What about flip flop guy? Was he so comfortable at Starbucks that it never occurred to him that it was someone else’s stool upon which he rested his feet? And the sweaty jogger? Yeah, umm, no excuse. She needs to leave immediately. Just then I was reminded that man, me in that instance, tends to look at the appearance of a person, but the Lord looks at the heart (1 Sam. 16:7). I wonder how many potential God encounters have been squandered by our unwillingness to look beyond the actions of a person, trying instead to understand the real “them” and how, as ministers of God’s grace, we could love our neighbors into a place of His abundance? I wonder…