Cafe Mocha “Light”

Baby, Oh Baby!!!

2008-11-11T15:33:00.002-05:00

Baby, Oh Baby!
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

Baby Girl DuMont Is Coming – Hurray!
My son and my daughter-in-law are thankful its true,
especially this year – and the reason is HUGE.
Roni is growing a bit everyday,
with a precious God-Gift inside her today.
“Its a girl,” the Doc noted, “A girl?” JC queried.
“A girl,” Roni whispered. Then together they cheered!
Our family did mark this momentous event,
with prayer and feasting and heaven’s consent.

Yes, my son and daughter-in-law are having a little girl. Have you ever seen pictures of a developing embryo? The process (called embryogenesis) is amazing. Two haploid cells meet and a single diploid cell is formed. If everything proceeds on schedule, a child is born nine months later.
It sounds so simple. But how does that combined cell know that it should divide... and divide... and divide some more? And of those divided cells, how does one cell know that should be the beautiful blue iris of our granddaughter, another know it will become her healthy liver tissue and yet another know it should form magnificent muscle to produce the delightful sound of her beating heart.

Some adult cells duplicate (skin cells are washed away when we shower and new ones replace them each day) but once a person is born a liver cell can never change to become part of a hair follicle or vice versa. Yet God provides miracles every day. He instructed one very special combination of cells to become our granddaughter. He told that very first cell how many additional cells would be needed, where each cell should position itself, and exactly when they should get started. Nine months later, a daughter is ready for her mother’s and father’s (and grandparent’s) arms. This is amazing stuff!

Some individuals would like us to believe that an embryo is nothing more than a clump of nondescript cells. They talk about the initial embryonic stage looking like a tadpole – implying that it is a throw-back to humans emerging from ooze trillions of years ago. But researchers know (although they haven’t figured out how) that cells are “coded” with information. The joining of two human cells can not create a frog because only human information is coded into those cells. It already is what God ordained – a precious child.

God wants his children to know that they are no accident. He perfectly forms each child before their mother or father even knows the child exists. As much as I already love the granddaughter whose birth we await – it thrills my heart to know that God loves her even more.

The word of the Lord came to me, saying, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart... " Jeremiah 1:4-5b

God's Tattoo

2008-11-11T15:25:00.002-05:00

God’s Tattoo
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

“Look at her. It’s disgusting!” the first woman said, as she tugged at her pristine white suit jacket.
The second woman adjusted her glasses and sighed. “Why doesn’t she just have those horrible tattoos removed?”

“They are awful,” the first one responded with a snicker. Then, pretending to shield her words from others, she added in a loud whispered, “I think the one around her neck has swear words!”

Her friend’s head shook like a bobble head doll – nearly knocking her glasses off her face.

“Caroline has been spending a lot of time with her. I don’t know how Caroline can be friends with someone like that.”

At that moment Caroline appeared in the doorway and stepped directly front of the two women. Although her words remained pleasant, her face echoed the steal that undergirded her tone.

“Hi, ladies. Did I hear my name? Was there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Uh... um... no... well, actually... um... we were wondering about your friend Miki,” stammered white suit.

“What were you wondering?”

“Is she a Christian?” asked the other woman trying to more firmly place her glasses.

“Yes. Yes she is.”

“So... um... why doesn’t she have those horrible tattoos removed from her neck and her wrist? They really aren’t very attractive.” The woman grimaced, reflecting her thoughts clearly in her expression.
“And doesn’t the Bible say something about not marking our bodies?” asked the other woman?

“I assume you’re taking about Leviticus 19:28. You have to understand why the Israelites were told not to get tattoos. The Israelites had begun to take on the customs of the people around them. These included marking their bodies with the names of heathen gods in hopes that they would find favor with the heathen gods. Have you actually looked at Miki’s tattoos.”

“Well, no,” the surprised women responded in unison.

“Well... the tattoo on Miki’s neck is a snake. She got that one before she became a Christian, but once she became a believer she had something added. It says, “Exodus 15:22-27 Jehovah-Rapha – The Lord that heals”. Every time she looks in the mirror, Miki is reminded that she’s been healed of her childhood abuse and her desire for alcoholic and drugs.”

Caroline smiled as at the open-mouth stares from the two women in front of her before continuing.

“Miki actually had the tattoo on her wrist put on recently. It is a rose of Sharon and the braid that winds around her wrist says, “Isaiah 49:15b-16 ~ But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! See, I have written your name on my hand.” She had this tattoo put on as a permanent reminder that even though her earthly father disowned her, her heavenly father will always be there for her.”

Silence fell on the women. When Caroline spoke again, her voice was kind but firm.

“You might want to get to know Miki. We can all use a few more Christian friends.”

Dear friend, you are faithful in what you are doing for the brothers, even though they are strangers to you. 3 John 1:5

A Christmas Yet To Come

2007-12-01T21:37:00.000-05:00

A Christmas Yet To Come
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

My assignment was simple – write a story entitled “A Christmas Yet to Come.” Visions reflective of a Charles Dickens tale raced through my mind. Stories that held ghostly apparitions and futuristic sagas with unexpected twists came in rapid succession. While I sipped my coffee topped with a mound of sweetened whipped cream, I wove the opening paragraphs of the manuscript.

It was set in the year 2052. It would take place just a month short of my 100th birthday, as four generations of family gathered at a Christmas reunion. The events in my story were both humorous and appropriately sappy for the season. I trashed the story shortly after I wrote a detailed description of myself fifty years hence. No previously written ghost of Christmas future ever scared me that much.

Yesterday evening I began a new story and God once again led me to fact rather than fiction.

***

Scott, our youth leader clutched his clipboard like a drowning man holds to a life preserver. When his words came, he spoke haltingly.

“Michael is 17. He’s a senior in high school and he asked me to share a prayer request with you. Last week he found out that he will most likely not be here next Christmas.”

Scott paused, hoping the truth of what he said would sink into the minds of the teens that surrounded him.

“So…where is he going?” one teen asked, taking a gulp of cola and popping a few Doritos into her mouth with practiced precision.

“He’s going to be with Jesus next Christmas. The doctors told his family that he has a very rare blood disorder and that there is no cure.”

Silence fell over the room like a thick blanket.

Scott continued, “I would like to pray for him and I want to ask that you pray for me as well. I’m going to see him tomorrow and…I really don’t know what to say to him.”

A low mummer replaced the silence. That night we prayed for Michael and for Scott but something gnawed at my insides. I kept seeing visions of old Ebenezer Scrooge with Tiny Tim perched on his shoulder. Scrooge’s step was light and snow flurries merrily danced about them. In A Christmas Carole, Ebenezer Scrooge saves Tiny Tim. When he purposes to keep Christmas in his heart, when he supplies enough funds, when he eases the burden of the poor and lame – Ebenezer is able to fix the problems of this world.

A dose of reality settles into my spirit as I think of Michael. His rare blood disease isn’t going away because someone donates a turkey and some presents. If Christ does not miraculously intercede, his parents will find an empty chair at their dinner table next Christmas.

For a brief moment I felt both helpless and hopeless. Then a scripture verse popped into my head. I don’t know when I memorized it or why but there it was – shedding hope where a moment before there was none. “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13 NRSV)

That in a nutshell is the story of “A Christmas Yet to Come.” The first Christmas was about Christ coming to meet us. The Great Christmas Yet to Come is when we, as believers, go to meet Christ. Whether we are here on earth for His second coming to this world, or we are called to meet Him on the other side of death – it does not matter. There will be a great reunion of Christ with His people…and that will be one heck of a Christmas party.

“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13 NRSV)

Bio:
Louise Bergmann DuMont, is the author of two books Grace by the Cup: A Break from the Daily Grind (Revell) and Faith-Dipped Chocolate: Rich Encouragement to Sweeten Your Day (Revell). She includes among her loves and many interests; her precious family, Biblical archeology, gifted/learning-disabled children and fiction/fantasy writing.

Cafe Chocolate

2007-11-27T07:43:00.000-05:00

Cafe Chocolat´
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

As I clutched my iced coffee, I peered into the display case at Café Chocolat´ and swallowed hard. Only my pride kept me from pressing my nose against the glass. The shelves were lined with dozens and dozens of the most decadent chocolate confections imaginable. Éclairs draped in their shinny chocolate coats and milk-chocolate mousse-filled cream puffs dusted with cocoa powder smiled at me. Enticingly strange were pyramid-like confections of chocolate mousse served on clouds of whipped cream. These stood in rows like a little soldiers awaiting their orders. Miniature raspberry tarts with white chocolate crusts and cakes that boasted names like Blackout Blizzard and Chocolate-Peanut Heaven bore their share of the acclaim.
But what finally seized my attention were the tiny individual cakes. One held a small placard with the name “White Carnation”. This dense, flourless, chocolate cake was covered in bittersweet chocolate ganache with a feathery white chocolate carnation festooning its cap. It looked deceptively simple – but my heart told me that breaking into this delight would reveal its wondrous complexity.
Like a child, I simply pointed to my desire and the clerk retrieved it. His eyes told me what I already I knew – this was the dessert of a lifetime. I sat at my little cafe stool awaiting the arrival of my treat like a queen awaits her coronation crown.
That morsel satisfied the depth of my culinary soul. I took great pleasure in each forkful and managed to savor even those crumbs that strove to elude my capture.
Oh God, that I would so eagerly await and passionately relish each portion of your precious Word.

Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart; for I am called by your name, O Lord, God of hosts.
Jeremiah 15:16

How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! Through your precepts I get understanding; therefore I hate every false way. Psalm 119:103-104

Free Coffee

2007-09-17T19:19:00.000-04:00

FREE COFFEE
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

A bright orange placard boldly announced its offer from the entry of the pastry shop -- FREE COFFEE!

My friend, who loves coffee nearly as much as I do, froze in front of the sign with unpleasant smirk.

“Sure... they give you a free coffee but it probably tastes like yesterday’s dishwater.”

“My, aren’t we cynical?” I asked smiling. “You didn’t complain when the department store was doing free make-overs or when the grocery store handed out free samples of cold cuts.”

Marilyn did not return my smile. “That’s different. In those cases you were supposed to try a product so you could decide whether or not to buy it. The coffee shop is giving away coffee – no strings attached. That can’t be good.”

“But it might be great coffee! Maybe the shop is just saying ‘thanks for coming into our store.’”

My friend shrugged her shoulders and when she spoke there was no conviction in her voice. “Maybe, but I doubt it,” she said.

For a moment we stared at the sign, unable to stay or go. Finally I offered my comments.

“I think society is way too eager to trash a thing just because its free. Remember that old saying, ‘The best things in life are free.”

My friend’s hand flew out as if she were brushing away an annoying fly.

“I’m sure you’ve heard another old saying, ‘There’s no free ride.’ If the coffee is actually good, I’ll bet there are strings attached to this deal.” Her gaze moved down the street and she pointed in the same direction, “Let’s go to that other café.”

I made no move to walk away. “One of my friends at work had a yard sale last week. They put out a huge box of things that they felt were decent items, but not things that everyone needed, and attached a sign that read, ‘FREE – Help Yourself.’ Noon came and went and no one even looked in the box. His wife suggested they change the sign to read “Your Choice - 25¢.” The next two people who came to the sale looked through the box and both made an offer on the lot of it. They ended up splitting the contents and were happy as clams that they got a bargain.”

“So you’re saying that the things they bought were actually worth something, but somehow it didn’t seem that way until they had to pay for it?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I know that a lot of people have trouble with salvation because it’s a free gift to us from God. They don’t realize its real value, simply because they aren’t the ones who have to pay for it. But that doesn’t make it any less valuable. The Father paid a high price for our salvation when he offered up the life of His Son. Even though we don’t pay for it, we are the ones who benefit from God’s love.”

“I see your point. Maybe this storeowner uses the best coffee beans in town and he’s being generous to his customers.”

My friend and I decided to give the free coffee a try. Turns out I was right – the coffee was EXCELLENT!!!

The Spirit and the bride say, "Come!" And let him who hears say, "Come!" Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift … of life.

Rev 22:11

Too Much of a Good Thing

2007-09-17T19:14:00.000-04:00

Too Much of a Good Thing
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

This past winter a coworker began mixing small amounts of cinnamon with the ground coffee. The addition was minimal, but the coffee’s spicy flavor made our breakfast breaks especially pleasant.

This same coworker took a vacation recently and a different individual was called upon to prepare the morning brew. He must have felt that if a little cinnamon tasted good, a lot of cinnamon would taste even better. What started out as an interesting, flavor enhanced experiment turned into a bitter, dump-this-down-the-drain-quick elixir. Trust me – more is not always better.

A friend’s youngster pointed this out to me again just last week. His mom and I were having a cup of coffee when he came running into the house. His eyes sparkled like 4th of July firecrackers.

~~~~~~~~~~
“Mom, mom – I know a joke.”

“Really. Where did you hear this joke?”

“Kyle told it to me. Can I tell it to you... please?”

“Sure – go ahead,” his mom said smiling.

“How do you know that an elephant was in your refrigerator?”

The two of us grinned at each other as we recognized the age-old joke. Winking at me, his mother played along. “I don’t know, Andy. How would I know if an elephant had been in our refrigerator?”

Andy bounced up and down with unrestrained excitement as he delivered the punch line.

“You’d know because you could see his footsteps in the peanut butter!!!”

We both broke out in a laugh as my friend gave her son a hug. It was fun to see another generation delight in the same jokes we once enjoyed – but the story doesn’t end there. A few minutes later, Andy was back.

“Mom, Mom... I got a joke for you.”

“Another one?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Her son quickly launched into the same joke. My friend smiled patiently, patted her son on the head and shooed him off to play while we finished our discussion.

Not a minute later Andy was back and a minute after that he was back yet again.

“Mom, I got a joke for you.”

Tension rode my friend’s face. “Andy, is this the same joke you told us the last three times?”

His smile turned downward as he stammered his answer.

“Y-y-es…”

His mom’s face softened. “Honey, you can’t keep telling the same joke over and over.”

Andy’s eyes grew large and he turned his face toward hers.

“But you thought I was funny. It made you laugh!”

“Yes, but it isn’t funny when you tell the same joke over and over.”

“Oh.” The twinkle left his eyes.

How about we go to the library tomorrow and find some new elephant joke books. OK?” my friend offered.
“OK.”

His mom caught Andy’s arm before he could run back off to play. “Honey, you don’t have to tell me jokes to make me smile. All you have to do is give me a hug.”

Andy’s grin returned as he wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck.

~~~~~~~~~~

We all occasionally yearn for extra love and attention. This can lead us to think that doing more good will earn us additional accolades. It is only when we recognize that God’s love is never dependent upon what we do, that we can spice our words and life in the appropriately measure – adding enough to provide a unique and rich flavor – but not so much as to make everyone sick.

“It is not good to eat too much honey...” Proverbs 25:27a

Searching

2007-09-17T19:08:00.000-04:00

Searching
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

Soup cans, pasta boxes, granola bars and water bottles lay scattered about our kitchen like wounded soldiers after a battle. With one hand on my hip and my foot tapping a frustrated beat, I stared at the now empty shelves of my pantry.

“Where could it be?” I faced the bare walls with a wrinkled brow.

“What are you looking for?” my husband asked as he came into the room.

“That bag of gourmet coffee beans we bought a few days ago. I know we didn’t use them.”

John leaned over and rummaged through a stack of items in front of the dishwasher. From under the macaroni and cheese he pulled a can of store brand coffee.

I wrinkled my nose.

“That is definitely not it.”

“I know, but it looks like this is all we’ve got.” John put the can down next to the coffee maker and walked away.

I looked at the mess and allowed my gaze to drift out the window. The sun had risen to an azure sky, a small wren chipped to his friend in our cedar tree, and a squirrel ran madly about gathering who-knows-what. For just a moment, I imagined giving up the search for my special coffee. I could easily settle for a pot of canned coffee and spend my Saturday puttering in the backyard.

An unwanted sigh escaped my lips as I began placing items back on the pantry shelves. How could I settle for something of lesser quality, when the best was somewhere within my reach? It took about a half hour to restore my pantry to its former self. Then my thoughts returned to the task at hand.

OK, girl – think! Where did you put that coffee???

I opened each cabinet in my kitchen and poked through its contents – eventually arriving at our appliance cupboard. I no sooner opened the door when I saw the coffee bag.

Of course! I put the beans next to the coffee grinder!

The bean’s russet wrapper welcomed me into its presence like summer sunshine. I pulled the coffee and the grinder from the shelf and had a pot of rich brown liquid brewing on my counter within minutes. Its scent drew my husband right to the kitchen.

“Wow. That smells great. I guess you found the gourmet beans.”

“Yes I did – but only because I kept looking.”

A grin grew on John’s face as he filled a large mug with the fragrant brew. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing for both of us that you didn’t give up.”

Some things in life are worth pursuing. Good coffee ranks high on my list. A trust worthy friend is another significant quest. But at the very top of my list, is my search for God’s will. When I’m walking with God, I know He’ll stand by me no matter what circumstances come my way.

The Spirit of God came upon Azariah son of Oded. He went out to meet Asa and said to him, "Listen to me, Asa and all Judah and Benjamin. The Lord is with you when you are with him. If you seek him, he will be found by you, but if you forsake him, he will forsake you. For a long time Israel was without the true God, without a priest to teach and without the law. But in their distress they turned to the Lord, the God of Israel, and sought him, and he was found by them.”

II Chronicles 15:1-5a

Spring Planting

2007-03-29T15:47:00.000-04:00

Spring Planting
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

My mother never threw out any fruit or vegetable scraps. Potato peels, apple cores and coffee grounds were all recycled long before our municipalities mandated recycling aluminum cans and newspapers. We called our recycling program a compost pile.

A friend of mine was recently having some trouble with her outdoor plants and wanted me to accompany her on lunchtime jaunt to pick up a very high-end plant fertilizer.

“Why don’t just throw your coffee grounds around the base of those plants?” I asked.

My friend’s eyebrows flew upward and her mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Those plants need acidic soil and coffee grounds are acidic. It would do the job just as well as your expensive fertilizer. We used to do it all the time when I was a kid.”

“Really?”

“Trust me on this. Just wait until the coffee grounds cool – then toss them around the base of your plants. If you don’t like the look, mix the grounds with a little dirt before you water the plants. It works.”

A few weeks later I again ran into my friend. She was grinning from ear to ear and waving me to come toward her.

“I’ve got to talk to you. Will you let me buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Sure. I’m always up for a cup of coffee.”

Her grin spread as we walked toward the cafe. “Remember what you told me about the coffee grounds?”

“Yes.”

“It worked just like you said it would! The plants are growing like crazy. But how often should I give them the coffee grounds? Is it better to mix it with the soil or just put it on top of the ground? Is it OK if the grounds actually touch the plant stem? How much water should I give the plants when I put the coffee down?”

I held up my hands as if to ward off the questions. “Whoa, girl.”

After we slipped into a booth and ordered our cappuccinos, I responded to her questions.

“This is coffee we’re talking about not some scientifically-concocted mega-growth miracle formula. Just throw the cool grounds under the plants after you are done with your Saturday pot of coffee. Water them if you want… or wait for the rain. This isn’t rocket science.”

She laughed. “If you say so... but it sure seems like a miracle formula to me.”

On my drive home I marveled at my friend’s concern for her plants. My father was one of those people who could grow anything, anywhere. He actually grew a tropical Passion Plant in Maine – outdoors! I, on the other hand, usually grow weeds. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a compost pile and I don’t fertilize my plants the way my dad did. Everyone knows that “rich soil” is good for plants, but few people want to think about what goes into that soil to make it rich. People avoid garbage but that is the very thing that makes the plants stronger.

There is a parallel in the Christian life. My character would not be the same if God did not send a little refuse my way. Those carefully saved apple cores known as financial struggles, that heap of vegetable peels called physical pain, and that big scoop of coffee grounds christened difficult personality types combine to alter my stunted growth. God fertilizes my life so that it will mature and produce fruit. Once developed, my healthy character can provide nourishment for others and who knows… God might even allow my fruit to become fertilizer for someone else’s life.

“You will be made rich in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.”
II Corinthians 9:11

March Snows

2007-03-29T15:45:00.000-04:00

March Snows
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

The white foam on the latte tickled my lip as I sipped at the beverage hiding beneath it. It was past midnight and I sat in a silent dark house, watching the snow fall outside our picture window. As the particularly large and lacy flakes descended, I pictured millions of grandmother-like angles crocheting doilies and tossing them to earth for our pleasure.

I love winter and I especially love snow. While most people revel in summer’s heat, I run from it. Summer makes me lazy and uncomfortable. Winter’s brisk winds invigorate me. Snow awakens my senses and refreshes my spirit. It makes me smile.

The foam on my latte was gone and I could feel a frown begin to form at the corners of my mouth. Muddy brown liquid sat where creamy white peaks, begging for a sprinkle of cinnamon, once stood. My gaze turned back to the window.

The sky had cleared and a full moon hung bright above the new fallen snow. The ground glistened and I found myself leaning forward to inspect the new vista more carefully. It was as if God had ground diamonds in the palm of his hand, before gently blowing the dust down to earth where it covered all living things. Bushes were frosted with the diamond studded snow like awkwardly iced cupcakes. The ground showed no driveways, no roads, no trace of human workmanship.

Snow is God’s great equalizer. Hordes of kids play football on my lawn each summer and it has taken its toll. Our neighbor’s lawn is carefully manicured, while dandelions, patches of dirt and crabgrass rule our lot each summer. But tonight, as moonlight streams over my yard, I can’t see any of that. It seems that both the unsightly and the beautiful can be treated to God’s blanket of white diamonds.

"Come now, let us reason together," says the LORD. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.
Isaiah 1:18

Resolutions

2007-03-29T15:42:00.000-04:00

Resolutions
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

It is hard to believe but by the second week in January many individuals already broke the resolutions they made on New Year’s Eve. At one point I stopped making resolutions because the pain of their quick and ready destruction was more than I wanted to think about. The whole situation made me re-evaluate the resolutions I was making and try to discover why I could not keep them.

Here is what I learned
.
When my goal is self centered (even if the goal is a good thing) the results are often temporary.
I can’t begin to recall how many times I started a diet on New Year’s Day. I know I need to lose a few pounds (and this is a good goal) but when the diet is only about how I look or how well I’ll fit into the latest fashions, my steam for the project quickly fades. I once made a resolution to give away one personal item every week. I felt this would help me get rid of material things and simplify my life. The problem was that it didn’t change my heart. I ended up buying things I didn’t really want just so I could give them away without getting rid of other things I wanted to keep. My materialistic tendencies continued until I was willing to let God change my heart.

When my goals are not in line with God’s goals for my life, every task will be a burden.
I’ve started a thousand projects that ended with less than satisfactory results. I love music but as the saying goes, “I can’t even carry a tune in a bucket.” Trying to learn an instrument was painful for me – and for my patient instructor. I tried one instrument after another, hoping to find something that would allow me to participate in my husband’s musical world. But every musician needs an audience. Once I relinquished my selfish desire to be a part of the band and choir, I was able focus on things for which God amply supplied me with the tools. Teaching writing, public speaking, directing events – all things bless others even as they bless me. When you use the gifts you are given, the tasks set before you are a pleasure.

When my goal is not in line with God’s will, even if I achieve the goal, I won’t be content.
Have you ever attained a long awaited goal only to find yourself unfulfilled? I remember a girlfriend who was still single after everyone else in our crowd got married. That year, she made a New Year’s resolution that she would be married before year-end. This woman threw herself into singles cruises, speed dating and bar hopping. True to her word, she was engaged by June and married by December – but he left her less than a year later. The cost of achieving that goal was unacceptable.

Goals and resolutions are in and of themselves not bad things. They key is to change in ways that lead us to be more Christ-like in personality and in our lifestyle.

This year my New Year’s resolution is simple. I want to hear what God has to say before I make decisions that affect me and my family. Moving in the direction God leads, assures me of success. He always provides me with the tools, the strength and any assistance I need to get His job done. When I know in advance that my resolution will not be in vain, my journey can be adventurous but it will never be overwhelming.

“Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will.”
Romans 12:2

The Christmas Debate

2006-11-28T09:31:00.000-05:00

The Christmas Debate
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

While on my coffee break the other day, I overheard a group engage in a rather heated discussion about how to spell Christmas (Christmas, CHRISTmas or Xmas). Although a number good points were made, it seems to me that our time could be spent solving more critical problems. Here are a few that come to mind:

Problem: Homeless shelters, soup kitchens and toy drives get sufficient help during the Christmas season. Yet during the summer, when kids are out of school and receive no subsidized breakfasts or free lunches, these programs run dangerously low on food, money and volunteers.
Solution: Christians could eliminate the volunteer crisis by using summer vacation time to work in a soup kitchen. We could rent less movies, buy less lattés, and order less pizzas – then donate the extra money to a shelter.

Problem: Around the holidays, some Christians spend hours stringing their homes with lights and setting up their plastic crèche only to find that they have little time for other tasks.
Solution: If Christians served in their communities the living Christ would be made visible to the unsaved. Shoveling a neighbor’s driveway, working in shelter, chairing a local clothing drive, building access ramps for the disabled, or grocery shopping for housebound seniors puts flesh and bone on the Messiah of Christmas.

Problem: Christians who exclusively spend time with other Christians have no one to share the gospel with during the holidays.
Solution: I suggest that we celebrate Christmas by reading to groups of children at the public library or in public schools. Different Just Like Me by Lori Mitchell is a wonderful Christian book that offers children a look at diverse people and how each fits nicely into God’s world. Another award winning Christian book (generally accepted by most librarians) is Three Trees by Angela Hunt.

Problem: Some Christians offer the world a joyless, boring Christmas.
Solution: Instead of complaining that Christmas is too commercial – Christians can take a lesson from Wall Street. A touch of ‘bling’ gets the customer’s attention and gives an amazing product (Christianity) the chance to be seen. A toss of tinsel and a taste turkey will go a long way to share the truth of Christmas. Let’s invite our coworkers, neighbors and unbelieving friends to the most amazing, unforgettable, Christian Christmas celebration ever.

It should be obvious at this point that how we write the word “Christmas” is not an issue for me. I need to focus on being an ambassador. Christmas is not about good deeds – but my good deeds will illustrate my Messiah to those who don’t know him. Christmas is not about presents, but gifts can fill a stomach, warm a hand and lift a spirit – opening someone’s mind and heart to the Good News. Christmas is not about family or neighbors – yet my family and my community needs to see me become more Christ-like.

My Christmas wish for you is that Jesus may warm your heart, move your feet, and help your hands to reach someone who needs to see Christ in you this Christmas.

“Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”
Romans 12: 10-18

Moving a Mountain

2006-09-26T15:51:00.000-04:00

Moving A Mountain – One Molehill at a Time
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

You see it everywhere – in book titles, bumper stickers, and billboards. The media tells us that we are too important to concern ourselves with “the small stuff” of life. I disagree. God never called me to move a mountain at a moment’s notice, but He has asked me to move a number of mountains – one molehill at a time.

Consider the seemingly insignificant task of setting out table favors. On the first Saturday of each month, my husband and I run a senior citizen program called The King’s Kitchen. We provide some form of enrichment or entertainment for our guests and serve lunch to about fifty seniors. Every guest receives a favor – a small token of our appreciation for participating. In the spring we may offer miniature baskets with one brightly colored Easter egg in each, last winter we made three tiered marshmallow snowman with pretzel arms and a licorice smile, and this fall we gave small bags of candy corn decorated with cheerful yellow and orange ribbon. The treats aren’t gourmet fare or great works of art but they do add a festive touch to the tables.

One Saturday, as I was clearing away the remains of lunch, Mary came up to me and asked if we had any extra favors. I placed in her hands three that I’d salvaged and was surprised when she wrapped her frail arms around me in a grateful hug.

“I’m glad you like them, Mary,” I said smiling, “but they really aren’t all that much.”

“Oh yes they are.” she replied, a grin spreading from one ear to the other as she hugged me once again.

Curious that such a small thing would make her so very happy, I asked her what she was going to do with them.

“Your favors are my witnesses”, she said.

“Witnesses?”

“Yes. When I get back to the nursing home, the first thing I do is pray. As God sends people to my room, I give them one of your favors. They always ask where I got it. That gives me a chance to tell them about The King’s Kitchen and about my faith.” Excitement grew on Mary’s face as she continued. “One particular nurse always made sure to visit. Last month I led her to the Lord and now she comes in a few times each week after her shift to read the Bible with me! I have two other nurses interested now.”

After things were cleared away I grabbed a mug of coffee and reflected on our conversation. Some Christians feel they can’t move mountains – or witness to an entire nursing staff. But Mary didn’t see her task as a mountain. All she saw was a pile of molehills. I don’t know what God has in store for Mary next, but she certainly proved to me that nothing is too small for God to use in a pair of willing hands.

"'Well done!” the king exclaimed. “You are a trustworthy servant. You have been faithful with the little I entrusted to you, so you will be governor of ten cities as your reward.”

Luke 19:17 (NLT)

Simple is Good

2006-09-05T11:26:00.000-04:00

I like my coffee strong, hot and black. I know, I know… light and sweet is the way of today’s culture. Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts and dozens of others, offer alternatives from hot Frappuccino Carmel Grande’s to Toasted Almond Iced Mocha Latte’s. Each is topped with real whipped cream of course.

Now I’ll admit that I indulge in an occasional iced latte on a summer’s eve, but no matter the season or the time of day, I still prefer sipping a cup of hot black coffee. It seems to me that people in general have become overly indulgent. I remember as teen asking my immigrant, factory working, dad for some frivolous item and getting his standard reply. “God gives us everything we need. If we don’t have it, we must not need it.” The older I get the more I see reason in his words.

We seem to have raised a generation whose mantra is “I want.” My young coworkers want big homes, luxury cars, and of course, lots of bling. One girl, who’s been living with her boyfriend for more than two years, made a comment that she wants to get engaged but her partner doesn’t make enough money to get the size diamond she has in mind.

My youngest son recently got engaged to a beautiful girl and he bought her modest diamond to solidify his commitment. She, a very practical and thoughtful young woman, was honored to wear the symbolic ring. As she and I sat sipping our coffee after lunch one afternoon, I caught her looking down at her hand more than a dozen times. With each glance, her eyes softened and a smile played upon her lips. I could not help but wonder if my coworker would have the same reaction when she got her two-carat diamond.

Unfortunately we are all affected by materialism. While I was sipping an evening cup of coffee, my son pulled out a photo of the elegant china that the engaged couple just registered for. I offered the appropriate oh’s and ah’s then suggested they chose a nice crystal pattern as well. From over my son’s shoulder I saw my husband. His scowl made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“What’s the matter with you?” I asked.

“All of that is just stuff,” he replied. “There are so many things that they need. I’d rather they get those things first. Leave the crystal for an anniversary later on.”

Now it was my turn to frown. I imagined the young lovers sitting in their new apartment, romantically starring into each other’s eyes across a beautiful candle lit table. Why shouldn’t these two have the best china and crystal to make the evening complete? Then my writer’s imagination drew a close-up of the table. On it sat a pizza box, two paper plates and two plastic cups. The same hands crossed the table and tenderly held each other, the same eyes locked in loving embrace. No crystal, no china. Just the two of them – surrounded by the love God placed in their hearts for each other. My husband was right. It isn’t about the “stuff.”

I took a sip of my strong black coffee and savored its taste. Sometimes simple is best.

A simple life in the fear-of-God is better than a rich life with a ton of headaches. Proverbs 16:15

©2006 Louise Bergmann DuMont. All rights reserved.

2006-08-10T15:40:00.000-04:00

Espresso for the Heart - A Sweet Start
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

Putting together a dream-come-true wedding using metropolitan area resources is easy; but doing it without second mortgaging your home is a bit more difficult. I recently conducted interviews with a group of newlyweds for my next book* and one couple, who was on a shoestring budget, competently met the challenge. They were able to create a memorable wedding, a delightful reception, and provide a compelling spiritual message for their guests without breaking the bank.

Martin & Melody’s ceremony was held in a quaint country church with all the charm of a picture postcard. Their reception, set to generously serve one hundred family members and friends, took place in the nearby fellowship hall. The couple personalized their special day by adding two elements, chocolate and coffee, to every aspect of the event. Needless to say their guests were eager to see the results.

The bridal attendants dressed in doe colored silk that draped like mocha clouds around the girls feet. The groomsmen sported tuxedos in a deep espresso brown. Instead of rice or birdseed, the guests were given coffee and chocolate scented streamers to toss when the newlyweds emerged from the church. At the reception a gleaming brass espresso-cappuccino machine was set on crisp brown linens, lined with ivory rose petals. Cocoa dusted mocha cappuccinos, rich brown espressos and frothy sweet lattes accompanied slices of chocolate-chocolate wedding cake.

But the best was yet to come. Neatly arranged to one side of the coffee bar were stack upon stack of gourmet chocolate bars. Dark, milk and white chocolate were lavished with raisins, almonds and caramel. Whatever an individual’s preference, they would find it waiting here. Before each guest departed the bride and groom presented them with the chocolate of their choice, custom-wrapped in a pale brown wrapper with gold lettering. Each read: "I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give you this testimony for the churches. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star." The Spirit and the bride say, "Come!" And let him who hears say, "Come!" Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life. Rev 22:16-17 NIV

I can’t think of a sweeter way to start married life.

We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us. I Thessalonians 2:8

*Louise’s upcoming book is tentatively titled – If a Tux Could Talk: The Men Who Help Plan Their Weddings, and the Women Who Love Them For It. If are going to be married, or if you were wed within the last five years, please feel free to fill out either the bride or the groom's survey on Louise's website - www.louisedumont.com

Caffe Seit

2006-08-10T15:35:00.000-04:00

Caffe Seit
...from the Coffee Cafe
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

"Luisa. Caffe Seit!" I still hear the echo of my mother’s call despite the years that have lapsed.

Although "Caffe Seit" means "coffee time" in my native German tongue, this repast embraces so much more than grabbing a mug of Java. Simple sweets are usually served along with the coffee and if company is expected, we might be treated to the likes of a rich butter cream torte, a fruit laden tart heaped with fresh whipped cream, or melt-in-your-mouth Butter Cookies. My mom seldom had to call me twice since, along with my love for coffee, I had a real weakness for desserts.

There is something special about coffee served with home baked goodies. They fit together like rosy cheeks and a young child. The slight bite of the coffee is a perfect match for the sweet, creaminess of cheesecake or the crisp snap of a thin wafer cookie. When I was a child, this wonderful blend of coffee and sweets would always bring a smile; but as I grew older, I realized that the confectioneries and the tasty beverage were only a small part of what brought me pleasure. The purpose of coffee time was to relax and delight the good things of God. Caffe Seit was not an option in my mother’s home. There was no guilt for leaving our work and no hesitation to do so. This rest was to be savored and everything else would have to wait. There is a lot to be learned from the practice of Caffe Seit. The world of the 21st century tells us to rush around twenty-four seven, but God calls us to take regular breaks. When I sip my coffee, a staple in my home, I am reminded that God supplies my daily needs. As I nibble my special treats I realize that God also sends me extraordinary blessings.

I'm grateful that my mother taught me to work hard but I'm also glad she reminded me to set aside my work to spend time with family, friends and the One who provides me with both the honorable staples and the delightful extravagances.

"For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and hallowed it.."Exodus 20:11

Taking Down the Christmas Tree

2006-01-14T22:14:00.000-05:00

Taking Down the Christmas Tree

I know some women who mourn the month of January. Packing away their Christmas ornaments is nothing more than a bleak necessity in the midst of a bleary winter. I don’t mind putting mine away though.

Our Christmas tree isn't one of those classy trees that is graced with brocade ribbons and antique lace. Nor do we have an ultramodern tree, simmering with sliver and spun glass. We have a tree that is filled with more trinkets than culture and more memories than glitz. Taking down my Christmas tree is more like opening a family photo album or a treasured scrapbook.

Each year we give our sons a Christmas ornament. These aren’t Hallmark ornaments that tout “first tooth” or “just married.” The ornaments we pick out are a bit more subtle, but no less significant. When the boys were fairly young, I purchased large lockets and placed a photo of my husband and me inside. A picture of each boy was placed on outside. Those simple lockets became their favorite ornaments. When my boys reached their super-sprouting years, I bought three snowmen that “grew” as you gently tugged on their tasseled hats. There was one year when money was really tight. I hand stitched scripture verses on bits of cross-stitch cloth, backed each with holly covered fabric, stuffed them with cotton puffs and created tiny little pillows that hung merrily on the boughs.

Our tree is covered with other memorabilia as well. There are the paper stars my sister crafted, the Popsicle sticks covered with glitter that the kids made in third grade, my dad’s hand carved icicles & snowmen and my mom’s hand crocheted snowflakes. It sports homemade paper hearts from a Danish girlfriend, a miniature coffee cup from a neighbor (the year my first book – Grace by the Cup: A Break From the Daily Grind came out) and a carefully preserved cookie ornament from the Ladies Auxiliary of my first church. Of course my husband and I collected a few ornaments of our own over the years. Early in our marriage we started a tradition. No matter what difficulties that year brought we would purchase one gold ornament for our tree. 2006 will bring number thirty!

Packing up the ornaments is pleasure for me. As I gently wrap each delicate treasure, I remember my boys when they were sweet pink-cheeked infants, rambunctious smudge-faced youngsters and strapping long-legged teenagers. Then I turn and watch my young men haul the worn old boxes to the attic. Their burly beards can’t hide hearty laughter and their muscular frames never fail to make me pause. God has truly blessed my family.

Each ornament I pack is not the gloomy disposal of another Christmas. They are reminders of God’s love. The places that I’ve visited, people I’ve shared time with, family I love – each is encapsulated in a little ornament. Some are reminders of where my family came from. Others prompt me to become a prayer warrior for future generations. One makes me lift my hands in thanks for a neighbor who watched over my kids. Another brings me to my knees for a kind, but lost colleague.

May God bless both your setting up -- and your packing up experiences.

The ChrisTmas Cross

2005-12-12T22:35:00.000-05:00

The Chrismas Cross

by Louise Bergmann DuMont

No matter how glittery the tinsel, no matter how bright the lights – the cross still sits in the center of Christmas.

No matter how delightful the carols, no matter how bedecked the halls – the cross still sits in the center of Christmas.

No matter how rich the fruitcake, no matter how grand the feast – the cross still sits in the center of Christmas.

No matter how warm the hearth, no matter how joyous the celebration – the cross still sits in the center of Christmas.

No matter how impressive the gifts, no matter how generous our bequests – the cross still sits in the center of Christmas.

For Christmas is not about what we do – it is about what He did.

Fire and Ice

2005-10-10T20:40:00.000-04:00

F i r e & I c e

by Louise Bergmann DuMont

Today our mountain bursts with brilliant gold and fiery orange. As if in competition with this display, the evening sun edges the horizon with resplendent red. The radio commentator declares this weekend to be “peak season” for fall foliage viewing.

Despite my joy at this sight, an unexpected sigh escapes my lips. My beloved autumn is about to succumb to its brother, winter. It is Friday and Sunday’s anticipated rain will wash most of the color from mountain. Like a watercolor painting gone awry, bleak gray skies will become the backdrop for muddy brown trees.

I pull into my driveway, drag my groceries to the house and set a small pot of coffee to brew. I need something warm and welcoming to lift my spirits. A mug of coffee laced with French Vanilla creamer seems just the thing. I part the living room curtains and sip my caffeine-rich treat. The leaves dance their way from the trees above to the browning grass below and a crisp autumn wind chuckles, begging me join the game. I give in. Grabbing my jacket and my mug of coffee I skip down our front steps. The wind nips my cheeks even as the blaze of the dying sun warms my soul. I walk the perimeter of our property and think of my dad. Each evening he’d walk in our yard, plucking a dying leaf off this plant and tossing a stray twig from that path. He loved the fall, but no more than he loved any of the seasons. My cheeks flush slightly. Was it the cold or was it discomfiture at my reluctance to accept God’s new gift of winter.

My mood shifts. Maybe the caffeine kicks in or just maybe God allows the fiery colors of the landscape to leach into my soul. I feel like a girl of ten who wants to run and play in the setting sun. I want to revel in the passion of this last dance of the leaves. Instead I hug the joy to my chest and smile at the thought of a fifty something woman prancing in the autumn evening.

When I returned to the house the warmth of indoors seems almost stifling. Thoughts of the coming winter broaden my smile into a grin. Minuet crystals of ice and snow will soon cover the bare trees. Each branch will be transformed into a lace curtain set against a silvery sky.

Every season has its crowning glory. Every time of year has a clear purpose and was created by God, for our good. Yes, autumn is glorious but winter is coming. We can look forward to the first snow and finding God’s joy in that white miracle as well.

Five Fingers

2005-07-30T11:44:00.000-04:00

Five Fingers
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

The man held up his hand, palm forward, five fingers raised like a banner. Hundreds of vehicles (with a total tonnage greater than a freight train) were brought to a halt by that one motion. Men and women, destitute and solvent, virtuous and corrupt… it didn’t matter. When the officer raised his hand, traffic stopped. For a brief moment I pondered the power in that hand. Then I smiled. The power was obviously not in those five raised fingers; it was all about the authority of the man who held up the fingers.

Some individuals use abusive verbal or physical intimidation to achieve specific actions, but no amount of force will earn them respect. There are those who their purchase attention with currency or favors, but nothing they do wins them the love they crave. Still others hope that physical perfection or prowess will gain them fame, but they soon find that the honor they achieve is only fleeting.

So what gives one man the authority to stop traffic with a raised hand? A little thought brought a quick conclusion. The officer stops traffic because drivers recognize his authority to do so – they know that the entire police force and our country’s judicial system are ready to support the officer’s decisions.

A bad cop, who abuses the authority vested in him, may get individuals to respond to his actions but they won’t give him the same respect.

Men and women who speak the truth of God’s Word also have an authority to back them up. The Heavenly Father stands behind His prophets and preachers and distributes consequences for disobedience to His laws. Jesus will someday judge those who disregard his representatives

A person’s ability to move others to action resides in the power sustaining them and the manner in which they represent that authority. A police officer does not feel the need to ‘convince’ people to obey and Christians who speak with the ultimate authority at their helm should not feel the need to ‘convince’ people that God’s Word is true.

They simply allow the authority they hold to speak for itself.

Therefore whoever rejects this rejects not human authority but God, who also gives his Holy Spirit to you. 1 Thessalonians 4:8

Glass Houses

2005-07-15T09:30:00.001-04:00

Glass Houses
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

The glass home was a magnificent creation, but it was not until I examined a piece of it under a microscope that I saw the true beauty of its engineering. Thin layers of glass were glued into strands, then gathered with other strands to form bundles. Collections of these bundles were woven into a dazzling grid that rivaled the finest lace. The grid was flooded with a glass-like cement -- creating a structure suggestive of reinforced concrete. The result was a nearly indestructible glass house. Throwing stones at this home would do little harm to the glass but might do serious damage to a weary pitcher.

Surely the human creator of this wonder would be honored and lauded by society! Not so. For humanity had nothing to do with its creation. A simple sea sponge, from the genus Euplectalla, used its God given talent to create a tube-like home made of practically unbreakable glass.

Pondering this, I found myself preoccupied with numerous creations that suddenly made themselves known to me. Here are a few observations:

* In the cool of the evening I relished the brilliant, hues of a sunset that eagerly consumed the sky before darkness snuffed its flame.
* I marveled at the complex structure of my brain. For when I caught the scent of a Lilac bush, my grandmother (dead nearly 50 years) promptly came to mind. A smile played on my lips as I realized that a thing of God, even something as small as
the fragrance of a Lilac, could evoke memories of great significance.
* The velvet feel of a newborn's small fingers curled around my pinky and forced my eyes heavenward. I implored God for the child's protection as my own frailty and limited ability to shield the child from life's tragedies crystallized in that moment.
* The power, agility, grace and control of a feral cat inspired me and rebuked me at the same time. Each fiber and sinew of the cat seemed to strain toward the job that God created Him to do. How often did I use my God given gifts in the manner He intended, and how often did I misuse them?
* I sat in a cafeteria and listen to the conglomeration of voices - low and raspy, smooth and soothing, deep base, high alto, German, Indonesian, French and English. I wondered at the intricacy of forming ideas and putting those ideas into recognizable words. Then the thought struck me. Our God hears it all, comprehends it all and answers each call in perfect time. Even those concepts and beliefs that never fully form in our minds and hearts are clear to our Creator.

This brought me back to thoughts of glass houses. I'm stunned that any human could look at the remarkable, unduplicated, creation of the Glass Sponge and still not see the hand of God. Our world is full of scientific wonders that can not be reproduced by man. But these wonders do add up to the most incredible creatures and events. Humans simply need to drive our minds from the mundane, to the extraordinary. We must allow our senses to experience the past and the present, while focusing on the future. We must move our eyes from the brown earth, to the brilliant heavens. And then… we must give credit where credit is due.

For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made. So they are without excuse; for though they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened. Romans 1:19-21

Freedom

2005-06-28T09:43:00.000-04:00

Freedom
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

The dazzling fireworks turned our sedate adult get-together, into a gathering of animated, oversized children. A red and blue striped bow-tie bobs against the crisp white shirt of one elderly gent as he bounces from foot to foot exclaiming the merits of each new demonstration. I find my own eyes growing wide with pleasure as the gold streamers of a particularly beautiful display reflect in my husband's chocolate eyes. Each spectacle seems grander than the last but is surprisingly unequaled by the one that follows.

What is it about 4th of July fireworks that makes my heart flutter and causes that rush of unashamed pride? I ponder this thought as I attempt to enjoy a spoon of rich coffee ice cream, only to find nothing but air crosses my lips. Unable to look down to the bowl (I fear missing even the smallest portion of the sky-show), I lift an empty spoon. My culinary pleasure seems so trivial in comparison to the events taking place above us. For me the fire-in-the-sky is far more than a glittery nighttime exhibition -- fireworks are synonymous with freedom itself.

Freedom is a flash of hope against a backdrop of evil. Its fire lights the way for children to frolic in cornfields and dance on inner city streets. The power behind its strength is often underestimated and those who misuse it -- will eventually get burned. When freedom is ignited, its thunderous sound rings in humanity's ears long past the initial earsplitting bang. Those who witness freedom's dazzling flash on the midnight of suppression, can try to shut their eyes -- but its image is so intense that it must linger in their mind.

Fireworks are the perfect symbol of our freedom and I pray that until the return of my Lord, they forever carry their message to the dark places of this world.

… but whenever a person turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

2 Corinthians 3:16-17

Elevator Etiquette

2005-06-15T21:41:00.000-04:00

Author & Speaker
Louise Bergmann DuMont
Author of Grace by the Cup: A Break From the Daily Grind
& Faith-Dipped Chocolate: Rich Encouragement to Sweeten Your Day

Elevator Etiquette
by Louise Bergmann DuMont

The lobster ravioli dripped with vodka sauce and the cappuccino came just the way I like it - topped with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. My coworkers' conversations sidestepped usual office matters and turned to less pragmatic chatter after lunch.

"Even though there was no one else on the elevator, she stood right next to me -- and really close! I don't know why she didn't go to the other side of the empty elevator. It was as if she'd never heard of elevator etiquette!"

In case you've never heard of elevator etiquette, here is quick overview.

When the elevator door opens, those entering an empty elevator (like prizefighters reacting to the sound of the bell) must retreat to opposite corners. Elevator conversations are limited to: the weather, sports and "have a nice day." Should other individuals enter the elevator, those already on board may move closer together but space requirements must remain directly proportionate to the number of people confined to the area. Any breach of these rules leaves one or more of the participants uncomfortable and may provoke unnecessary violence.

There are thousands, perhaps millions, of everyday rules like, "Always wear clean underwear, in case you are in an accident." I doubt very much that paramedics worry about a person's underwear when they tend a gunshot wound inflicted by a drive-by shooter. These and other unwritten laws pressed upon society left me wondering if such restrictions had a healthy purpose or if society shouldn't make an effort to set some of them aside.

Jesus kept the law of His day, but the priests shouted His alleged violations of it. More than once he healed on the Sabbath and picked grain to feed His disciples. The temple rules were broken (i.e. no healing/work on the Sabbath); but in truth, Jesus kept the law in its purest sense by honoring His father and tending to those put into His care.

Shortly after the "elevator incident" another social breach came to my attention. When a friend went through a difficult divorce, her parents nearly disowned her. They did not believe in divorce and held her responsible for the break-up even though it was her husband who left the marriage for another woman. My friend nearly broke apart from the isolation imposed by her family and church and bent under the burden of her husband's abandonment.

When we went out for dinner nearly a year afterward, she shared the poignant events of that day. It was her birthday and not a single person sent a card, offered congratulations or so much as mentioned the occasion. Bouts of weeping had her returning to the office ladies room most of the morning. By late afternoon panic and paranoia rose to meet her. Loneliness whispered that she was unloved and fear shouted her that it would last forever.

Frantic to get connect to another human, she started a conversation with the woman sitting next to her on the bus. After what seemed to be a pleasant chat, my friend impulsively asked if woman would join her for a cup of coffee when they got off at the next stop. It was her birthday. Better to spend it with a stranger and pretend to have friends than to go home to an empty apartment and cry yourself to sleep knowing that no one cares. But the social faux pax of asking a total stranger out for coffee abruptly ended their conversation. It was fine to talk about the weather but one didn't get "friendly" with a passerby on the bus.

My dinner companion laughed out loud when she described the panic on the face of woman, but sorrow tinged her laughter's gay ring. Looking into her eyes I felt the weight of her sadness. I was glad that I asked her to dinner that evening.

As we sipped our café lattes, I was able to see beyond her social blunder. There lay a beautiful but very lonely person -- trapped by circumstances out of her control. People who are desperate to get close to someone - if only for a moment - are all around us.

There are social norms that we all should not cross, but it would be wise for us to ask "why" we do things rather than simply admonish ourselves or others for breaking society's rules. A healing touch, a comforting word or allowing a lonely stranger to invade our elevator space… can go a long way to make the world a softer place to land.

2005-04-02T20:36:00.000-05:00

Louise DuMont, Faith-Dipped Chocolate Tour
Posted by Hello

Intro

2005-03-31T13:52:00.000-05:00

Welcome to Cafe Mocha "Light" an inspirational, informational and insightful blog about coffee, chocolate and faith.