just a cup of tea
If your partner is English (or English the way mine is, anyway), you end up watching a lot of British crime television — shows like Sherlock, or Broadchurch, or even Vera. And while I’ve always been a tea drinker myself, I often can’t help but laugh at how a cup of tea is apparently the balm that heals all wounds:
Your daughter bursts into your house, having been chased down a dark alley by some suspected murderer? There, there, love, just sit down and have a cup of tea.
The police just showed up to tell you that your best friend has been assaulted? Oh, horrors! Let me put the kettle on.
Just received news that your nanny, who didn’t show up to work this morning, was kidnapped? Oh my word, the water’s just boiled, let me pour us a cuppa.
I tease Marcus about this a lot. “What’s up with the tea?” I ask, grinning. “Do Brits believe tea has magical properties?”
He doesn’t even crack a smile. “You don’t understand,” he says, sipping his mug. “Tea makes everything better.”
It’s just a cup of tea.
Many years ago, I was sitting in my office on a sunny afternoon, having my usual cup of tea. When I placed my mug on the table, the light through the window sharply illuminated the steam rising from the hot tea.
I wonder if I could photograph that, I thought, and grabbed my camera. I took a few shots, processed the ones that I liked, and posted them on my website.
Soon after they were published, someone left a comment. Reading her words, I could almost hear her sighing. “You’re so lucky,” she wrote. “Your life is so filled with beautiful moments you can photograph.”
I remember being a bit shocked by this comment — I hadn’t even considered the photograph in the context of my life, beautiful or not.
It’s just a cup of tea.
Teasing notwithstanding, I’m totally charmed by the British custom of a mug of tea being the go-to tool for comfort. And although I didn’t appreciate it at the time, I did realize after the fact that my mug of tea in the sunshine was a beautiful moment, and I was lucky to have captured it with my camera.
But to be clear, I don’t believe in the magical properties of tea.
What I do believe in, however, is the decidedly magical way we’re able to imbue comfort and connection in even the most painful occasions. I believe in the magical way we can spontaneously appreciate beauty, even in the most mundane items.
So my wish for us this week: may we pay attention to simple, magical moments of comfort and connection and beauty — even if they’re only in the form of a simple cup of tea.
a reminder of cadence.