Once you've developed a taste for it, it's hard to resist Turkish coffee. In my first years in Russia, this stove-top coffee was just going out of style, making way for the much cheaper and faster Nescafe instant. And now that a second coffee revolution is taking place, expensive European espresso is easier to find than the gritty, old-fashioned coffee associated with places further south and east.
Recently, though, we've learned to make Turkish coffee at home; it helps me get through the sleeper hours after noon. There's just one problem - making it. It takes time. Three teaspoons of coffee, one of sugar, mix and put over medium flame until just starting to boy. One really should simply stand next to the stove and wait in order for it to turn out right, because if you don't time it right, the result is what you see in this picture. And the coffee's not any good either. It happens to me no less than once a week.
Turkish coffee has become a symbol for me of the difficulties I face in mission here. On the one hand, I try to accept the gift this culture has presented to me (this new drink); on the other hand, my multi-tasking, American self has a hard time waiting and watching closely so that I might enjoy the gift to its fullest. The same goes when contributing to the two-way exchange that is mission - those gifts I try to share are not always accepted in the way that I had hoped; not always is it possible for the other to wait at the stove while the grinds transform into a the intended gift.
Once again I'm convinced of the crucial need for patience. May the Lord grant it to me and all of those I'm trying to make coffee for.
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