Some people think traditions are dumb, maybe that's because they've never had them. Some people work hard to create traditions... and some people just let them happen.
I Love traditions, the overly sentimental person I am thrives off of them. Like decorating my parents house for the holidays along side my sisters, with the sound of Silent Night and Dreaming Of A White Christmas playing in the background, getting lost by the sound of laughter and crackling wood in the fireplace. Most traditions are worth keeping.
Of all traditions there is one that I particularly enjoy, you see this is one of those traditions that just fell in to place... it just happened, and I absolutely love that it did. We call it our Sunday Coffee. Because its just that, two people and two cups of coffee, always brewed to perfection. Several months ago.... like 10 months ago, I was a broken soul. I had been brought down to as low as I could be brought. My self worth was diminished. There was much support around me during this time. My sisters my parents my best friend, and Jon... my VIP :). Each playing a very important role in my recovery process. This begins my journey with my VIP. Of all the above only he knew the very in depth details of the year before, the journey that had brought me to the place I was at. His uplifting and encouraging words of wisdom fed my strength. It was a cold Sunday morning in January, feeling at my lowest, I stopped by on my way to church, I needed a talk, I needed someone who already knew to listen to me, I needed someone to not tell me what I wanted to hear, but rather what I needed to hear. It was then that it began, somehow it had fallen into place. Although many of these Sunday conversations took place before church, sometimes it would be after, other times there would be Hot Cocoa during the evening hours, but it never failed... there was always a partaking of a Sunday conversation. This still continues, over 10 months of Our Sunday Coffee, yes of course we have missed a few Sundays due to happenstance, but even then our conversation would follow through... thanks be to Jesus for phones. whether it be in his kitchen or mine, accompanied by Chorizo and eggs, pancakes or french toast, a house full of babies or the silence of an empty house, there has never been a Sunday I wished didn't happen. The tears, the laughter, the smiles, the hugs and the dancing barefoot in the kitchen have been nothing short of a gift from God. My VIP is a man I have grown to appreciate in so many ways and am so thankful for the time I have with him by my side. Sometimes traditions don't need to be created, sometimes they are a gift that keep on giving. A gift that no one else needs to understand but yourself.