The Cup of Chai

I have fled to my favorite place nestled in the Virginia mountains to finish the final push to study for the pediatric boards. in the midst of my studying I bought a cup of tea at the library coffee shop (yes I know, I know you wished you lived in the Commonwealth where we have coffee in our public library).

The tea took me on a journey that was not related to metabolic genetics or vaccine schedules, the tea tasted like green hills and dusty roads and felt like the swish of skirts around my ankles and the sounds of afternoon torrential rain on a tin roof mixed with the chaos of an open market, smelled like charcoal, woodsmoke, cow dung, and dirt. The tea took me to East Africa, in one small transformative sip, i was there.

It has been a crazy week filled with frantic studying, medical uncertainty, funding rollercoasters, praying with that irreverent prayer of exhaustion and frustration: God where are you in the mist of this crazy, crazy mess of life I am in right now?

Is Kenya really where you want us? Is it really what we are supposed to do or is it just the desire of our hearts? Can we really get married and move to another country in the same short season of our lives? Can we afford it? Can our careers afford it? What if our project is a miserable failure? What if I fail the boards? What if I need eye surgery (coming eventually) before we go or while we are there?

The cup of tea took me there today and it was a small thing really. A cup of tea that tasted much less like the Americanized sugary spice and much more  like the Kenyan black tea with its milky aftertaste and smooth fullness. But it was a hopeful journey of God whispering, the vision is not yet clear but I’m still the same God I was yesterday and the same tomorrow.

 

 

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