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Two Cups of Tea at Hopes’ Cafe

I recently discovered that I could see which posts had garnered the most views. “Have a Good Day on Purpose” topped the chart, published May 5, 2023. Given how the topic developed, I found it noteworthy that it was the most read of the posts. That seems worth re-posting as follows:

My great niece posted those words on her Facebook page.  Intrigued, I searched for the quote and discovered the complete quote, which is: “Have a good day on purpose, then elevate your efforts towards other and enjoy a great day.”  Ms. Toni Jenkins, author of a book titled Been Through It All,  is credited with the quote.  Jenkins’ book describes her difficult upbringing in a culture of drugs and abuse  and her ultimate survival.

              I thought of Abraham Lincoln’s statement that “People are usually about as happy as they make up their minds to be,” quite surprising given his propensity for depression.  His law partner gave the description that “His melancholy dripped from him as he walked.”  His best friend once had to remove razors and any other means of self-harm.  Another time neighbors stood suicide watch due to his talk of self-destruction.  Certainly he had the makings of depression.  At age nine he helped carve his mother’s casket.  His sister died at age 21.  He lost two young sons.  He faced many other challenges as well.

              In an age when suicide is the third leading cause of death in 15-24 year olds, and every day approximately 132 people die by suicide, these two quotes would seem to have a common theme of hope.  Life is possible even in the face of the most difficult of circumstances. Lincoln is still regarded as a great man and president. Jenkins is inspiring others to overcome their own obstacles.

              This is not to minimize how painful life can be nor how appealing it might be to someone to be free of the pain.  In the course of my career as a therapist, I had two people who died by suicide.  One was a young man, who at 18 was presented with a list from his mother of everything she had done and spent on his behalf, with the expectation that he pay her in full.  His sense of worthlessness was pervasive and no matter what safeguards we tried to put in place, his intention was to be released from what had been a miserable life.  The other was a widow with a lot of health problems, whose primary reason she felt to keep going was for her pet bird.  When she made arrangements for the bird, I feared she was going to soon seek the opportunity.  She actually was in the emergency room for an overdose when she found meds unmonitored and took all of them.  One must have great empathy for the immensity of the burdens some carry.

              On the other hand, a woman I had been seeing in therapy called me one day to say she had been to her lawyer, written her will and made arrangements for care for her seven year-old daughter.  She said she was on her way to kill herself and wanted to tell me goodbye.  In a voice I did not even recognize as my own, I heard myself say “No! You will come directly to my office immediately.”  Thankfully she did as this was before the era when there were crisis intervention teams and more resources for suicidal people.  She rallied and was able to recover her functioning. 

              It is not our job to be “saviors.”  But we can be companions on the journey.  As Ram Dass said “We’re all just walking each other home.”

              May we be bearers of hope, the “wait staff” of Hope’s Café for each other and all those we encounter.  Shalom, Kate

Hope’s Café Bonus:  We are urged to be more cautious about terminology when talking about suicide.  “Commit suicide” hearkens to the time when this was considered sinful, in the category of “committing adultery” or “committing a crime.”  Journalists are urged not to sensationalize reporting of suicides as that has the result of affecting vulnerable people inclined to self-harm. 

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Cafe

Following my last post where I described my relationship over the years with my foster sister, she and I shared many additional memories which led me to invite her to do a guest post. She declined my offer but sent me a meditation that arrived in her inbox the same day my last post was published. I find it worth sharing. It is such a tribute to her that she survived horrific experiences and recognizes that integration of all these memories to a whole cloth is possible. The message speaks to all of us as well as we each weave the tapestries of our lives.

This meditation is from DailyWord, an outreach of Unity, which was established in 1889 by Charles and Myrtle Fillmore. They were interested in providing spiritual resources to people of all faiths rather than establishing a church. Eventually people drawn to their philosophy began to establish Unity churches.

From DailyWord June 6, 2025

“Memories: I give thanks for the blessing of my memories.”

“My memories are the gossamer threads of my life experiences, each strand tying one experience to another to weave a tapestry that is the picture of my life.

“Each recollection connects my past experiences with the present. Some are tender, some can make me laugh, and some might bring a tear to my eye.

“I give thanks for lessons learned, relishing the happy times and blessings, releasing any unhappy ones. All form the fiber of my being. They comprise the sum total of who I am, how I respond to present circumstances, and how I weigh the decisions I make for the future.

“My memories shape my thoughts, supporting me as fuel for my spiritual growth as well as light that guides me everyday.”

The invitation is open to share two cups of tea anytime at Hope’s Café or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we bearers of hope, the “wait staff” at Hope’s Café, for each other and all those we encounter.  Shalom, Kate

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Cafe

My junior year in college I was startled when I called home only to hear the phone answered by a voice I didn’t recognize: “Emerson residence, Cathy speaking.”  Now even more confused, as at that time I was going by Kathy, I managed to ask to speak to my mother. 

This is how I learned that when I first started college, my parents had applied to be foster parents.  Given how hard foster homes are to come by, it is astonishing that my parents hadn’t been contacted until that year for an emergency placement “for the weekend.”  As often happens in Foster Care World, “temporary” can extend for lack of another placement. 

I had two older brothers.  As a child, I had sometimes pretended I had a sister and complained to my mother that I didn’t have one.  It was clear when I returned home at the end of my junior semester, that I now had a “sister.”  Cathy, who had begun to go by Catherine to decrease confusion, was seven years younger than I.  I tried to include her in some of my activities, though her attention-seeking behavior was annoying.  Once my boyfriend and I invited her to go to the lake with us to walk around, feed the ducks. She managed, quite deliberately, to fall in the water.  Neverthelesss, I endeavored to be the big sister: sewed her some new clothes for her birthday, invited her for a weekend at my dorm. 

We were perhaps developing some ties. But I was pretty consumed with my own life:  college graduation, taking my first job, moving away from home.  By the time Catherine was 17, she left my parents’ home and neither they nor I expected she would be back in our lives.  But the next year she asked to return.  My parents agreed and she lived with them for another year.  I was in Tennessee in graduate school by then and only kept up with her through my mother.  I recall she came to my parents’ fiftieth anniversary celebration and I saw her again at a family reunion some years later. I was always happy to see her.   But it was when my mother died that she and I really connected in a deeply shared grief.  My mother’s influence had made all the difference to her and she clearly loved her. 

After the funeral she and I spent some time together.  I learned the story behind the emergency placement all those years ago with my parents.  She, though not her  sister, had been adopted by a couple after she and her sister were removed due to severe neglect by their mother.  The mother would leave for days at a time while Catherine, not yet school age, was tasked with taking care of her younger sister. 

The adoptive home had become a living nightmare, the adoptive mother having some severe mental health problems.  She became abusive even to the point of locking Catherine out in the middle of a severe storm.  As the abuse escalated, Catherine felt this woman was intent on killing her.  One evening she gathered what cash she could find and some pancake mix, which must have been the only food she could readily find, and took a little suitcase to a local hotel to check in.  The desk clerk checked her in and promptly called the police, which led to the desperate call from the foster care worker to my mother.

The year following my mother’s death, my father died.  Catherine came to help me during that time and our connection and affection deepened.  I could not love her more if she were my biological sister.  I am grateful my parents took her in. I admire her for taking that opportunity over time to ground herself, to develop into a beautiful, caring human being.

  My mother had wanted to be a nurse but her father had thought that not fitting, claiming nurses had gotten a bad reputation as loose women in World War I.  He determined she should major in English.  Even that was not to be, as he died during her freshman year. Mother was unable to return the following year due to finances.  Catherine established a scholarship fund for nurses at the Baptist University in Oklahoma in memory of my mother. Eventually, Catherine became a nurse herself. 

“The most powerful force in life is love,” said Nelson Rockefeller.  I would add that love actually can start from such a tiny seed, as small as answering a foster care worker’s phone call, and develop in extraordinary ways. 

The invitation is open to share two cups of tea anytime at Hope’s Café or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we bearers of hope, the “wait staff” at Hope’s Café, for each other and all those we encounter.  Shalom, Kate

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Cafe

Years ago, when I was the highest ranking person in the agency for whom I worked, the director position being vacant, I was put in charge of making the daily deposits. I looked forward to this task because the teller I could usually manage to get at the bank was the most serene, calming presence I had ever encountered. My mother worked in banking for decades. I know it was not necesssarily the easiest, most peaceful atmosphere. But this woman was positively beatific. She radiated peace. Standing there doing business did not seem like an appropriate time to engage in a conversation about her serenity. Truthfully, I became rather tongue-tied, so in awe I was. But I have thought of her so many times through the years.

Lately, I have found serenity hard to come by. Nights especially are awfully painful as my body seeks to heal from a quite extensive back surgery. Sometimes I read till I’m so exhausted that I sleep. Sometimes I go through all the French I can remember. Other times, I pull up all the scriptures I can recall and recite them in my head. I wish I had learned more poetry over the years. The one thing that brings me close to something resembling serenity is when I hold the wooden cross my now deceased brother and my sister-in-law gave me for my ordination. I become aware of so much beyond myself. I begin to pray for others whose needs I am aware of . I pray for others suffering pain and sleeplessness. I pray for healing and wholeness for them and for myself.

As much as I appreciated (and, yes, envied) the bank teller her peaceful presence, perhaps a more useful approach, is to pay more attention to the moments when we expand our awareness, as I have been able to do through prayer in the midst of pain. Suddenly my world is no longer about my pain alone, but I am connected to others, both known and unknown to me. And I think of other times when I simply am captured with awe by an unexpected gift of awareness. Nature is full of those.

Once I was driving home at dusk and a mama skunk and her babies were crossing the highway. With cars in both directions she placed herself vertically on the dividing line on the highway and gathered her babies underneath her body. I was transfixed, connected suddenly to these little lives. I sat there as did the car opposite me and we waited for her to safely cross with her little family. A few years ago, my husband and I sat with our grandsons on the balcony of their family’s apartment, watching the evening turn towards night, stars and planets beginning to show themselves. Young as they were, the boys could name all the planets and talked about the sky and what intrigued them. I felt so peaceful, so connected to them but also to all that is greater than ourselves.

P.S. I am still considering the future of the blog, wondering about a “vlog,” videoing a weekly piece or some combination. Right now, I’m focused on my recovery so decision-making is on hold!

The invitation is open to share “two cups of tea” anytime at Hope’s Café, or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we be bearers of hope, the “wait staff” of Hope’s Café for each other and all those we encounter.  Shalom, Kate

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Cafe

Young Tess and her husband moved to the D.C. area and sought out friendships and community ties.  As they settled in, they discovered many kindred souls.They shared in play readings, music nights, book discussions.  In their circles there were families offering various services:  one taught how to make victory gardens; another operated a nonprofit daycare for children with disabilities; one developed a listserv for babysitting swaps, meal trains, last minute grocery trips; a highschooler and a college student in the neighborhood organized an all-girl cast for The Taming of the Shrew performed on their front porch. 

Into this rich mix, Tess suggested they should have a neighborhood folk dance night.  Guess what? There already was one!  Postman Pledge was already “in full swing” so to speak.  This group had been formed in response to the proliferation of cell phones for children.  “The families of the Postman Pledge commit to building community bonds while also intentionally limiting their families’ use of digital technology – in particular, children don’t have smartphones or access to social media. And the whole family is expected to practice thoughtful limits for the sake of cultivating ‘habits of presence and attention’ in order to grow in the love of God and others,” enjoying the many aspects of life available outside of technology. (Plough Quarterly, April 7, 2025, “Dancing With Neighbors”)

As I have prepared for surgery, I am so very aware of community, of all the people who have offered encouragement, support. I feel tearful even as I am writing this, knowing how valuable this is for Terry’s and my wellbeing in the coming weeks.  What is life about if not to be there for one another, celebrating the good times, working through the hard times in a network of love?

The invitation is open to share two cups of tea anytime at Hope’s Café or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we bearers of hope, the “wait staff” at Hope’s Café, for each other and all those we encounter.  Shalom, Kate

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Café

In November 2022 I wrote a blog about neighbors, including memories of the small town I grew up in in Oklahoma and my experience of moving to an even smaller town in Montana in 2021.  I have had reason to think on this topic again since we moved back to Tennessee. 

Having easily adapted to Columbus, MT, and coming to love being in a neighborhood after decades of living in a secluded home in the woods on a farm in the midst of other farms, I was not sure how I would feel coming to Harrison, TN, bedroom community to Chattanooga.  Then a week or two after we moved in, the next door neighbor came to bring me some strawberry jam (coincidentally sold from the farm we sold). I visited with the neighbor and her husband and learned the husband looks out for the neighborhood, taking trash to the curb for the elderly widows or checking on folks to make sure if they need anything.  Other neighbors have stopped by to deliver me mail that was mistakenly left in their box.   

The most recent episode of neighborliness came at the post office itself. The employee at the small post office about two miles from our home brought out the big postal box required to hold all our mail after a lengthy trip.  I said I would carry it out in two bundles as I am due to have back surgery soon.  He just picked up the box and carried it out to the car. 

In all the places I have lived over the years, no two have been alike.  Neighbors are the one commonality and can give the sense of small town living even in much larger cities.  I must agree with Robert Fulghum: “Good neighbors make a huge difference in the quality of life.”

The invitation is open to share two cups of tea anytime at Hope’s Café or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we bearers of hope, the “wait staff” at Hope’s Café, for each other and all those we encounter.  Shalom, Kate

When you read this, I will be on a ship far, far away (South Pacific to be specific!) I may be able to post while I’m gone but I’m doubtful. Almost certainly there will be things I will want to post about. Though I haven’t taken my computer, I do have my journal that I can draw from on my return. However, my blogging may be erratic because I expect to be having back surgery on my return.

Just before leaving, I read my friend Mary’s blog (Zippy Quilts) where she described a quilting class she took that in part involved being clear about one’s goals. My initial goal with this blog was just to insure I was writing something regularly and in the process to share something uplifting or at least of some interest. Periodically I evaluate if I am accomplishing what I set out to do and if I want to alter or expand what I’m doing in some way or to change course. This trip seems to offer the opportunity to step back, reflect and consider the alternatives.

I will check back in at Kate’s Hope Cafe when I return and we will see where my reflections have led me!

The invitation is open to share “two cups of tea” anytime at Hope’s Café, or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we be bearers of hope, the “wait staff” of Hope’s Café for each other and all those we encounter.  Shalom, Kate

I just wrote probably the longest blog I have ever written. Had copied document to post it and whatever I hit erased the entire thing! It is 10:30, late to reinvent it. Perhaps I will try again to create it soon. I feel pretty defeated by my computer at the moment!

Peace, Kate