Let me tell you a story as I type and sip on my coffee this rainy morning.
My dad was fully Swedish. I grew up with most of the traditions of a Swedish-American childhood. As I grew up, my parents, aunts, and uncles drank a lot of coffee. My mom and her friends at the Swedish Covenant church I grew up in fixed huge pots of egg coffee for every church function.
I can still remember the aroma of coffee wafting up from the church basement as I descended. It smelled wonderful.
I've always loved the smell of coffee. Imagine my surprise the first time I realized it tasted nothing like it smelled! I figured as I got older, coffee would taste better. Every adult I knew seemed to love it. As I reached my teen years and sipped it here and there to see if my "adult" taste buds had grown in, I realized how different I was from everyone else.
I got married, had children, ordered Cokes and remarked, "That's my caffeine! Ha ha!" when a friend wanted to meet for coffee. I couldn't stand the taste of coffee! My teaching colleagues would walk the halls early each morning with steaming mugs of coffee. I stocked my classroom fridge with cold, diet Dr Pepper. At family dinners, my aunts would wonder if I was really family. Jokingly, they'd ask me, "How can you be in this family and not drink coffee?" I had no answer for them.
I learned to keep instant coffee in my cabinet, so my Swedish dad wouldn't need to leave the house early in the morning to find a cup of coffee each time he visited.
My sister, Laurie, owned a coffee shop for several years. When I'd visit, she'd always say, "Order anything you want!" My eyes would scan the long menu until I'd find the non-coffee drinks. Her smoothies were great, but I always felt somewhat like a failure. Maybe I wasn't Swedish at all...
And then it happened. I was in contact with cousins in Sweden! My sister, Kris, and I began planning a trip to Sweden, my retirement trip, and I was so excited to meet Gunnel and her family!
One day, I talked with a friend who had traveled to Sweden several times. She listed things I could expect when visiting a Swedish home, and at the top of that list was something she considered wonderful.
"You can expect to be offered coffee at any home you visit."
"Oh. Well, what if you don't like coffee?"
She just stared at me. "Well, I guess you could ask for a glass of water..., The water is very good there."
I went shopping and dragged home a variety of coffees, creamers, syrups, and whatever else I could find. I needed to learn how to drink coffee, fast! I sipped sample coffee at coffee shops in tiny paper cups. I watched what my friends put in their coffee. I tried a tablespoon of coffee in a cup of milk! Nothing worked! All I could taste was bitterness! If I couldn't make it through a second sip of coffee, how would I survive two weeks in Sweden?
My only strategy left was to keep trying every chance I got. I have to admit, I also asked God to heal my taste buds!
The day finally arrived for our trip, and I, yet again, ordered coffee, this time good Swedish coffee, on the Swedish plane headed for Stockholm. I complained to Kris about it. As I talked, I added cream and sugar to the cup the stewardess had handed me.
"Kris, watch this." I raised the cup to my lips and took a tiny sip.
Kris just stared at me, then said, "You can't make that face when we're with our Swedish cousins!"
"I know!" I was completely dismayed. "There's something wrong with me!"
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| My first cup of coffee in Gothenburg! |
By the time we got to Gothenburg, it was lunchtime. We found a little cafe in the train station and decided to eat there. I ordered lunch and coffee, then sat down and doctored the dark liquid with milk and sugar. The salad tasted wonderful! I looked at the pretty white cup filled to the brim with "the enemy." Reassuring myself that I had a bottle of water as a back-up, I lifted the cup and took a sip.
What was this wonderful liquid?!? I took another sip. No bitter, screwed-up frown as I swallowed. I was almost as excited to be drinking coffee as I was to be in Sweden!
I ordered coffee every chance I got for the rest of the day! In Sweden, you may find yourself with an opportunity for coffee five or six times a day! They even have a special name for coffee breaks. They call it fika, and I fika-ed several times a day that first week!
I joked that I really must have been broken and all I had needed was to "return to my ‘homeland’ to be reset!"
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| My Swedish cousins at Fika in Gunnel's home. |
Needless to say, lots of coffee and a little jet lag might have caused some sleep problems that week. (They do drink their coffee strong in Sweden!) But it was all worth it!
The next week, I enjoyed many cups of coffee with my Swedish cousins and never had to ask for a glass of water instead!
On the flight home, I worried that Swedish coffee was different than the coffee at home, and I'd go back to hating it. I’m happy to say that worry was unfounded. The day I got home, I tossed the pop and added a cup of coffee to my morning routine.
Think what you want, but I believe God might have smiled at my silly prayer and decided to answer it. What better time than with my first cup of coffee in Sweden? He is the Giver of Good Gifts, and as odd as that sounds in relation to coffee, maybe He decided to answer my prayer. I really have no other explanation for this marvelous little event.
