In Defense of the Blessed Bean

There's a problem here in Utah. It goes unnoticed by those of you outside the state, unless you actually venture here and experience the problem first-hand. It's a discrimination, a shunning, a devaluing of an entire species.

It's not racism, not misogynism, not even religious persecution.

It's worse, as it affects people of all cultures, races, genders, nationalities and creeds.

This scourge of Utah, this vile offense?

I call it javaism.

Because the majority of the citizens of our fair state belong to a faith that deems coffee sinful -- even going so far as to equate it with drugs during Red-Ribbon week at our girls' school -- those of us who partake of its joyous aroma, who sip from its savory umber pool, are seen as suspect, and, unlike those of you in the rest of America with a coffee shop and/or drive thru espresso shack within a coffee beans throw of each other, are made to travel inordinate distances to enjoy the fragrant lusciousness dispensed by that soul-patched barista lest the availability of it's goodness entice others into its buzz-filled web.
I love the simple cup of coffee. I don't love it for the caffeine rush (honestly, I don't even notice a jolt...but I may be immune to it after 25+ years of imbibing). I don't want it with frou-frou creamers or flavors. Just give me a warm cup filled with water that's run over those roasted and freshly ground beans, and I'm satisfied. Content. Happy.

What could possibly be wrong with that lovely cup of joe? What offense can be found in its aromatic enticements? I know not.

What I do know is that there are few created things as gratifying, as restful, as simply blissful as my morning java.

So I defy the prevalent javaism of my community. I embrace the ever-present coffee scent that permeates my home. I smile graciously at the passerby holding that white and green paper cup that he carries like a scarlet letter. And I boldly drink the nectar of the blessed bean, in my car, in the store, at the park, yea, even in a restaurant after dinner.

And I savor it, thanking the Creator of all good things for His wisdom, His foresight, His oh-so-wonderful ingenuity in making that unassuming little plant, that one day would provide the cup that enriches my life today.
Thanks, God, for coffee.

It is very good.