tea bags

Last Saturday, I opened a small cafe. It is a nonprofit cafe that is run solely by volunteers. Only the Executive Director and the two chefs are paid employees. Opening the cafe gives me the chance to breathe a prayer of peace throughout the rooms.

I check my phone and saw that my dad had called. I called him back. He and my mother ended up having lunch at the cafe. My mother only needs hot water and eats very little.

I told her about the tea that the nonprofit uses. It’s called Compassion Tea and is another nonprofit. The tea is very fresh and always smells heavenly when being made. It’s one of the easiest drinks to make too.

My mother looked sad and hurriedly asked me to take some of her teabags so that we, the nonprofit, could give them to people.

I looked at her.

Taking a deep breath, I told her that a cafe couldn’t take tea from a patron and give it or sell it to others.

Her look of confusing cut me deeply. Fighting back tears, I walked to the counter to help other people.

I am getting better in that I didn’t feel lost when they left.

I felt sad that she is losing so much of herself…

Grasping for the hand that once led me.


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