I’m not a cof­fee­holic, or am I?

Record Observer - - Religion -

Noth­ing smells bet­ter in the morn­ing than a fresh pot of cof­fee in the kitchen. The Gra­cious Mis­tress of the Par­son­age has it set so that at a cer­tain time in the morn­ing, the cof­fee be­gins brew­ing and we wake up to that won­der­ful aroma.

I love my cof­fee in the morn­ing and noth­ing gets me on the road bet­ter.

I did have a lit­tle glitch this past week. I had to go in for my yearly blood test. If you ever had your blood taken, you know you are not sup­posed to eat or drink any­thing af­ter mid­night in or­der for them to be able to take the cor­rect blood sam­ple. Even Count Drac­ula was not that de­mand­ing!

I did not think about it un­til when I get up that morn­ing, the cof­fee was brew­ing, the aroma filled the house and I was ready for my first cup of cof­fee of the day. Then my wife looked at me and said, “Don’t you have a blood test this morn­ing?”

My heart sank to the bot­tom of my feet. How can I be­gin the day with­out my morn­ing cup of Joe?

When I went to the doc­tor’s of­fice that morn­ing I said to the nurse, “You are the bravest per­son I know.”

She looked at me rather quizzi­cally and I ex­plained. “Not hav­ing my morn­ing cof­fee makes me a rag­ing grouch of a per­son.” And I meant it.

She laughed and said, “That may be true, but I have the nee­dle I’m go­ing to stick in your arm.” With that, she laughed, but I did not re­turn the mer­ri­ment.

Upon leav­ing the doc­tor’s of­fice, I went straight to McDon­ald’s for a cup of cof­fee. How I got there, I will never know. Af­ter sev­eral sips of cof­fee I seemed to settle down and be­come a rather de­cent sort of a per­son. Or, so I think.

I am not quite sure where I learned to love cof­fee so much. Grow­ing up, my par­ents drank cof­fee, but it was that ter­ri­ble in­stant cof­fee. How any­body can drink that is be­yond me. For the long­est time that is what I thought cof­fee tasted like and I did not want any­thing to do with that.

I dis­tinctly re­mem­ber the first time I had a real cup of cof fee.

I was help­ing my grand­fa­ther with some lawn work and about mid­morn­ing he looked at me and said, “Son, how old are you?”

I thought it was a rather silly thing for my grand­fa­ther to ask, but I re­torted with a cheer­ful “I’m 14, grandpa.”

“That’s good,” he said to me smil­ing, “you’re old enough for some real cof­fee, let’s go in­side.”

That is when I was introduced to real cof­fee. To this day, I am not quite sure how he did it, but I know he put a lot of en­ergy into his cof­fee. It was cof­fee perked on an old-fash­ioned wood stove in the kitchen.

So, I owe my love of cof­fee to my grand­fa­ther who knew how to make real cof­fee and not that ar­ti­fi­cial in­stant cof­fee my par­ents made.

Since that time, I have been en­joy­ing cof­fee and per­haps, as my wife says, I have been en­joy­ing it too much.

Not long ago about the mid­dle of the morn­ing, she looked at me while I was drink­ing a cup of cof­fee and asked a strange ques­tion. “How much cof­fee have you had to­day?”

For the life of me, I am not sure why she asked such a ques­tion, be­cause no­body can have too much cof­fee.

Not sure how to an­swer, I very care­fully said, “This is the only cup of cof­fee I re­mem­ber drink­ing to­day.”

I find it won­der­ful get­ting old when you can blame ev­ery­thing on old age and for­get­ting things.

“I’m not so sure,” she said rather hes­i­tat­ingly, “this is the third pot of cof­fee I made to­day.”

Af­ter all, who counts how much cof­fee they drink. One cup is as good as an­other cup. I am not the kind of per­son that dis­crim­i­nates about any­thing, es­pe­cially cof­fee. Of course, if it is in­stant cof­fee, then I will dis­crim­i­nate.

“I think,” she said very se­ri­ously, “that you are a cof­fee­holic.”

That rather stunned me be­cause I had never heard that word be­fore. I am some­what of a word­smith and en­joy words and phrases, but this word, Cof­fee­holic, I had never heard be­fore. At first, I thought maybe she was mak­ing it up. Upon a lit­tle bit of re­search, there is such a word.

She was not fin­ished with her lit­tle cof­fee chat, “I think you are drink­ing too much cof­fee and should con­sider cut­ting back a lit­tle bit. Caf­feine isn’t good for you.”

I am not sure where all that came from, but I will “think” about what she just said. I do not plan to do any­thing about it, be­cause I think she would not like to be around some­one like me who has not had his cof­fee for the day.

I have so many other things to think of, just like the apos­tle Paul said, “Fi­nally, brethren, what­so­ever things are true, what­so­ever things are hon­est, what­so­ever things are just, what­so­ever things are pure, what­so­ever things are lovely, what­so­ever things are of good re­port; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things” (Philip­pi­ans 4:8).

This is what I am go­ing to be think­ing on, but not on cut­ting back on my cof­fee.

Dr. James L. Sny­der is pas­tor of the Fam­ily of God Fel­low­ship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife in Sil­ver Springs Shores. Call him at 352687-4240 or email jamess­ny­der2@att.net. The church web­site is www.whatafel­low­ship.com.

MARY­DEL — A Penny Party will be held at Im­mac­u­late Con­cep­tion Church at 518 Main Street in Mary­del on Satur­day, Feb. 11.

There will be a baked goods and auc­tion ta­ble. Hot dogs, meat­ball sand­wiches, and pizza will be avail­able for sale.

Doors open at 5 p.m.; party be­gins at 6 p.m. Ad­mis­sion is $1, and penny, nickel, dime, quar­ter and dol­lar ta­bles will be avail­able to bid.

For more in­for­ma­tion, call 410-482-7687.

GREENS­BORO — Sun­day, Feb. 12, is Founder’s Day at Whole Coun­sel of God Min­istries, 302 Church St., Greens­boro. Bishop Ma­jor Fos­ter and Philadel­phia Pen­te­costal Ho­li­ness Church of El­len­dale, Del., will be the spe­cial guests.

Lead­er­ship at 9:30 a.m.; Sun­day school, 10 a.m.; morn­ing wor­ship at 11:15 a.m.; af­ter­noon wor­ship at 4 p.m. Bishop Marvin L. Jenk­ins Sr. is pas­tor.

Call 410-482-2700 for in­for­ma­tion.

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