This morning in the elevator in the parking garage, a complete stranger says, “I could’ve taken the stairs.”
I say, “Well, it’s good to conserve energy!”
She says, “And I need it!”
And I say, “Me too, which is why I’m on the way to get coffee.”
I want to cry out: Come with me! Let’s be friends! I’ll not walk stairs with you!
I can’t help it. I love people.
She says, “I don’t drink coffee.”
And my brain does this:
Why doesn’t she drink coffee?
How does she have her morning Bible reading plan without coffee?
Does she read the Bible?
Oh my goodness! Does she have a Bible?
What does she do for energy if lacking both coffee and the Holy Spirit?
And, perhaps peripherally, how will this new friendship work if she doesn’t like coffee? Where will we go to talk about her new Bible and relationship with Jesus if we aren’t in a coffee shop?
I’m ahead of myself.
I start laughing at myself the evangelist, the extrovert, the friend to strangers. I realize my own overbearing mind.
I smile and tell her to have a nice day.
Maybe tomorrow, if I see her again, I’ll ask more about life without coffee.