The Universe in my Cup

I put my first, fragrant cup of coffee on the table and pour in the half and half, watching the sensuous swirls of cream lazily fall to the bottom of the cup then rise in mushrooming clouds until the coffee is almost completely creamy. People say you should put your cream in the bottom of the cup and then it will be stirred as you pour the coffee over it. Nonsense. And miss this little miracle? I stretch my legs out in front of me on the sofa, leaving room for Gromit to climb up beside me. He won't stay long; he isn't much of a cuddler these days. Pogo barely waits until I'm settled to bring me her squeaky ball for a few minutes of fetch. She squishes the ball feverishly and then pokes it in the hole between me and sofa arm. I toss it to her a few times. Gromit indignantly leaves the sofa, vacating a space for Pogo. She jumps over my legs and flops down as only she can (having only three feet makes her clumsy in such a tight space.) I savor the hot, strong coffee. It will never tastes as good as these first few sips. I adjust the pillows and grab my Bible, inhaling deeply. My thoughts are flying around my head like fluttering moths. I close my eyes, trying to settle down. I formulate a brief prayer, knowing that if I linger, the prayer will inevitably end in me mentally taking out the trash or defending my opinions, such is my undisciplined mind. I look out the window at the bare branches of the red maple, then through the twiggy tips to the sky. It's still cold and severe. I wish the simplicity of winter would continue, not yet ready for the complications of spring. Now, in this stillness, I search the Book for words that will encompass and infuse me with enormity. Grasping the universal, pleading with God to make it internal. How puny are my thoughts, so inadequate, trivial. Cooing, gooing baby sounds. Then, for a few moments I am able to transcend the ink and paper words to the Word that spoke the world into being. I am dizzy at these heights and a little fearful. I descend too quickly into the living room, sitting on the sofa with my coffee, thinking about the trash or the argument in my head. Yet, I did look down on my life from a lofty place. I did look up into the bright clear heavens and see a brief glimpse of glory. Now, it's time for the day. Maybe it will be a day of grace and truth, not just baby sounds.