Riding a Bike

First, I apologize for my last blog. It was a pure rant. And I usually process better before laying out my frustrations for everyone (well, the two people who read this) to see.

Funny thing is, as I was moping about my insignficance and my silent offering, I was writing my blog in the coffee shop. It was then I realized there was a line wrapping around the tables. This isn't unusual, but it looked like the shop needed some help.

So, I offered to help. To my surprise, they said yes.

As I rounded the counter and washed my hands, I rush of panic hit me. Its been nearly two years since I've been a barista...would I just be in the way? If I was in the way, it would be the pickle to my crap sandwich that is this whole week.

The stupid cliche is true. (I suppose it wouldn't be cliche, if it weren't a bit true) It was like riding a bike. I called out drinks, served pastries, prepped cups, steamed milk. I doubled-barred with the new kid and let him pull the shots while I told him which milk went for which drink. I even made conversation with the customers while I made a breakfast sandwich.

Now, this isn't my pining for my days at 6th and Pine. For the 30 minutes that I was behind the bar, I never lost sight that I did not want to do this for the rest of my life. I missed the thrill of a line to the door. I missed the communication and team work for a single goal. I missed meeting new people and making small talk with customers.

And even though I may never get to help in this way again, I do realize that God allowed it to show me that he does see significance in my presence--especially when I don't.

I am thankful that he can use broken, empty vessels like myself to be a blessing to a small group of people.

Its nice to be needed.