Originally posted on Blogher January 7, 2010:
While brewing some tea, I realized it was my grandmother who tried to teach me patience with a cup of the stuff. I am a person who wants everything yesterday, which explains why it took so long to understand the lesson. Perhaps a cup of tea each day will bring greater revelation, drop by drop.
I still miss her, even though she's been gone almost seven years. She passed away after losing a battle with Emphysema. My grandmother smoked her whole life, despite serving as the main cantor and psalmist at my parish church, celebrating weekly services and other special masses. Her greatest hits were "On Eagle's Wings" and "Be Not Afraid." Every time I hear those hymns, I get all verklempt. And during a funeral? Fuhgeddaboudit.
My grandmother had a beautiful soprano voice, although I cannot remember how each note and cadence sounded. Members of my community continue to approach my family to tell us how they miss her warm presence. Not only a stunning woman, my grandmother also possessed an infectious aura that drew many to her side. She made people feel at ease when she spoke to them. Even if she did not remember your name, she would call you "Hon" or "Love," and you felt as if she had known you for your entire life. Of course, I'm quite sure that she always remembered my name. She called dogs "Pussycat" and once owned a cat named "Dog." It was just her special way.
Despite how much I miss my grandmother, especially during mass, I cherish fond memories of her. I resurrected one particular memory while brewing a cup of green tea on a frigid January night. It's often said that a watched pot never boils, yet there I stood, impatiently waiting to drink some nice warm tea, already. I crossed my arms and sighing, thought of the minutes in the near future when I would be forced to wait even further for the tea to steep. What an inconvenience! Forget about my new year's resolution and earnest prayers for patience and peace in my life: I wanted my tea and I wanted it now!
Then a voice whispered in my ear: "Caitlin, the best things come to those who wait." Or maybe it was "Patience is a virtue, Love." Either way, I felt the pang of some healthy Catholic guilt, then the dull ache of missing my grandmother. Only at that moment did a spark of remembrance happen and I finally smiled.
My grandmother, the President of the Women's Club a.k.a. The Most High Queen of the Old Ladies, had invited my mother and I to the Annual Tea Luncheon at the VFW Hall. I was only eight--I not only hated the bitter taste of coffee and tea (blech), but I felt uncomfortable around these sickly-sweet-smelling, blue-haired women. I resisted my gag reflex as I bit into an egg salad tea sandwich. My grandmother did not notice my discomfort, however. She just proudly beamed at her daughters and granddaughters yakking at the table. She demonstrated how to steep the tea (dunk, a-dunk, a-dunk) and cautioned not to put milk in my raspberry tea or it would curdle. When I lifted the cup to take my first sip, I copied her raised pinky, hoping to one day be as elegant as she. I soon remembered one of the reasons I hated tea: it burns your tongue! My cursed impatience to wait for my tea to properly steep and cool resulted in an inability to use my taste buds for the next few days.
As I stood over the stove, almost fifteen years since that day at the Luncheon, a light bulb switched on. I laughed at my eight-year-old self that I still managed to ressemble at 22. I finally understood my grandmother's lesson. Hurry up and wait. If you rush it, you'll get burned. Be patient in all things in life, but especially for your tea to cool. My grandmother somehow continues to teach me lessons about life, about family, and about what really matters. I am not always perfect (or patient), but I am always, always thankful.
