The family business was no more.

The days of escaping life to make lattes was just a chapter that had a reached its disappointing end.

It was something akin to a favorite storybook character tragically dying in an already heart-wrenching book.

After this loss, my dream to own coffee house was further permeated, as if to avenge the beloved character’s demise.

(yeah, it felt that dramatic.)

I thought I would have reached the dream by now.

The big secret, which I only kept hidden from myself, was that my “dream” had merely become a spiteful challenge.

My once good intentions had been mostly overtaken.

My new intentions were to “avenge” what I had lost, not to provide a peaceful and welcoming community.

Oh boy oh boy, my pride had gotten the best of me.

Now it’s 6 years later. I’m in my kitchen, wearing pajamas at noon, and making a latte using the mini espresso machine my sweet husband gave me for Christmas.

My son is loudly playing his little drum set in the living room. I join him on the floor, placing my favorite mug next to the laptop I’ve been working at all morning.

I’m oddly nervous and giddy to take the first sip from my mug.

Not only has it been 6 years since my life fell to pieces, but this is the first latte I’ve made since that day.

I take the first sip, and I realize:

This is not the dream I had planned for.

This is so much better!

I know the coffee house dream is still somewhere in my heart, but it’s been graciously set aside without my asking. I don’t think I could have done that in my own strength.

If I ever have grit, it is especially exposed when I am seeking justice and resolve.

In my pridefulness, I determined that me owning a coffee house would bring justice. and maybe my peace and safe haven world be restored.

What a pitiful idea that I needed “justice” before I could have internal peace.

The last 6 years have not been perfect, but “perfection”, “justice”, or even accomplishing big dreams are not required for peace.

While the safe haven from my youth is no longer mine - and is even still more of a painful memory -

and a physical safe haven has rarely been found,

I have found it to be true that peace transcends all understanding.

I don’t understand why I lost everything at such a young age.

Even more, I don’t understand how I am so undeservingly blessed with a wonderful husband, the greatest gift of motherhood, and a home to create as our own safe haven.

I still have high hopes for the future, and I love to dream.

But I, also, love to let tomorrow worry about tomorrow.

My dream for today is that my home will have all the comfort of a coffee house;

my visitors will feel welcomed and safe,

peace will be overwhelming,

and conversations will be healing -

and, of course, enjoyed over a delicious cup of coffee!