The World According to Starbucks

I know you think I go to Starbucks all the time. But I don't. Just Monday through Thursday mornings on my way to work. And on the weekend if my wife wants to go. In a weird sort of way, it is kind of a microcosm of the post modern world. Nobody goes in for coffee (especially me. I hate coffee!) But it's a special blend coffee with a double shot of who knows what. Some put ice in it, others have whipped cream on top, still others have to be blended. No two drinks are exactly alike. You see businessmen, hippies, hairdressers, frazzled housewives, people who just worked out, etc.
What kind of stoked my interest today was the bartista as they call her. She asked what drink someone wanted and they told her some kind of coffee. Sumatra, I think. She then asked if they wanted extra room in the top for cream. "No, thanks," was his reply. "Awesome!" she said. Now I'm sorry. No room in the top for cream could be practical, daring, frugal, manly, but awesome? This young lady is one of the managers and she's always cheerful, always smiling, always helpful. . .even early in the morning. She probably drives the other people in the place crazy. But I kind of like her.
I appreciated her child-like exuberance. There's this clover stuff that used to grow in my yard. It had little white flowers, but I think it was a weed and I was ever so glad to mow them down when I saw them. When I was a child, I would pick the same flowers for my mother. She always responded as if they were a dozen red, long-stemmed roses. She would often get a small glass and place them in a prominent place.
Now in my youth excitement, picking flowers for my mom, her excitement and reaction--what would happen if we would get excited, really excited about the "little" things God does for us. How do you think He responds in kind? So sad, we struggle to see the little things, we only want the huge miracles. Maybe if we noticed the "little" things God does, we would see even more.
Lord, open my eyes today. Help me to see you in everything--in the song of the birds, the cool of the morning, the wink of the eye of a neighbor, the love of my brother. Forgive me when I ignore you when you hold out your arms and I turn and run. Help me to see your "little" things. Have a great day. JW