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One of my pet peeves is encountering people who are “fine.” We all say that when we’re passing one another in the grocery store, when we haven’t got time for a conversation, when we don’t want to share. But we do tend  to say “I’m fine” to one another entirely too much, when it is obvious to just about anyone that most of us are not fine at all.

It’s somewhat amusing, but some of those “I’m fines,” read more like back the heck off or I’ll kill you, like I have been fantasizing about doing to all these other people put on the earth just to annoy me.

My other peeve is, “we’re handling it.” Really? Will you all show me where life’s handle is located, because I can never seem to find it? Does life even have a handle? When people say I’m handling it, it actually makes me feel rather inadequate, like a defective unit because some days I can’t even handle getting out of bed in the morning. Also, generally my fastest path to trouble always begins with my trying to “handle it.” I can handle a cup of coffee…on a good day. I have also managed to fail at that and pour it down the front of me.

I really like the visual about seeds. When you are in the bottom of a pit, surrounded by darkness and people are tossing handfuls of manure on you, you are not in trouble, God is not mad at you, you are simply a seed for a season. You must crack and split and sprout and bring forth new life. God is there above the darkness, warming the earth, calling you to rise up into the Son-light and break the surface, refreshed, renewed, like a tender little sprout with brand new leaves.

All I can say is that if God is going to insist on making me a seed so often, I should very much like to be a coffee bean. Coffee is proof that God loves us, and while mustard seeds are all well and good, one pot of coffee can sure brew a whole lot of love.