Pressing In

When my youngest daughter was born, I was in the middle of a transition from being a busy work-at-home mom, to being a stay at home mom. I had just sold my successful stationery company that I founded and ran for the previous seven years. It would mean the freedom to be fully present at all times with my kiddos. I wasn't wrong, and It's awesome. It just isn't what I expected. In my head, it all sounded so nice—full days, spending time at the park or the zoo or on picnics with no computer work nagging at the back of my mind. What I wasn't prepared for was the feeling of isolation. It didn't make any sense—never actually being alone but feeling. so. alone.

When I ran my company, I had a group of girls constantly around me. My director of operations, my wholesale manager, and I would sit at my kitchen table and drink coffee and talk and laugh in between conversations about work for what felt like hours. It was life-giving. It filled my soul and fired me up. Girl time. Coffee. Hazelnut creamer. A full house. I felt human.

After I had Charlie and left that all behind, the coffee ritual went away, almost by default. Those first few months were legitimately depressing. Not for lack of coffee—believe me, motherhood is fueled by it—but the lack of community with women that I respect, that I know love me, and that freely and openly discuss their struggles, triumphs, and convictions with me. We had moved into a temporary apartment that was less than inviting. It was cold outside. And with work removed, it was easier not to find a reason to get together anymore. I made excuses and filled my time with other, seemingly important, tasks—tasks that did, certainly, pass the time. But that was all they did. Boy, were those 6 months dark. And boy, did the time pass slowly.

As I write this, I'm only just on the other side of that darkness. It was maybe two months ago that I invited a friend over for coffee during the girls' nap time so that we could chat without children distracting us. It reignited that passion for having people in my home, and the coffee is just an inevitable part of it. I'm excited about heading full-force into a new season of time and conversation with friends, spent over a hot cup.

In the time since those days as Stationery Designer, my husband and I have improved greatly upon the quality of the coffee we partake (you may even call us a little snobby), purchasing coffee online and paying way too much in shipping to try new, interesting varieties. I would say it happens coincidentally, but I know better, that we'll get an exceptionally great bag of coffee and the opportunity always presents itself for us to have friends over to share it with. As much as I would love to hoard all of the deliciousness for myself, this reminds me a little of giving the first and best of what we have to the Lord. It humbles us and it's a practice I am praying He will continue to allow us to hone.

Here's the recipe we like to use for coffee made in the french press. If you want to try something new, I suggest ordering a bag of coffee online from La Colombe. They're all great.

52 grams coffee, coarsely and freshly ground

700 grams of water, just boiled and cooled for about 30 seconds

Add the coffee to the bottom of the french press. Pour in a little water in a steady stream in the middle of the coffee and stop. Watch how the coffee rises kind of like a volcano. That's called blooming and it's a sign of really fresh beans. When the coffee stops blooming, after about 30 seconds, pour in half the water and stir with a wooden spoon, attempting to agitate the grinds as little as possible. Pour in the rest of the water and cover with the plunger lid, but don't push down just yet. The lid is just keeping the coffee warm at this point. Allow the french press to sit just like this for another 2.5 minutes. With the weight of your hand only, slowly press down the plunger, being careful not to smash the grinds at the bottom. Immediately pour all of the coffee into the cups to enjoy.