Snow Cricket represents my loved ones.
In my mind coffee and faith and family and love are the same. My Mamie Snow and my Papi Snow and my Grandma Cricket. These three. They are the ones who gave me coffee and God. Who gave me the love of both. They made me who I am. And now my wife Tori and my daughter Quinn and my son Theo. They are my life. They are my reason for it. All of it. My grandparents. They are something special. To carry their legacy forward is a joy I can hardly put to words. And it’s my hope that these traditions of ours might inspire you. That they might somehow find their way into your family’s mornings. Into your coffee. Into your life. From my family to yours. Tray Blaylock
Pray
Grandma Cricket’s house was a place of peace out in the country where no noise from the city could reach us. Breakfast was big and countrystyle and coffee was served. Always coffee. We drank it from sippycups at first and coffeecups when we got older. Fourwheelers in the yard and guns in the cabinet and fishingpoles propped in the greenhouse and nature stretched out before us like an open hand. In or out, she’d say. You’re letting the flies in or you’re letting the cold air out. Her voice sharp but never unkind. She was a teacher though not in the way of books or chalkboards. You learned by watching, by listening, in the kitchen her happy place. She moved without wasted effort. Pancakes to your liking and coffee made just so. Bible open in her lap for hours and prayers whispered through the door of her bedroom. She taught me how to make pancakes. Proper ones. How to drop peanuts in a bottle of Pepsi because that’s the way it’s done. How to treat people. She never spoke ill of anyone which she passed to my dad. Graceful and compassionate. Sunday was the Lord’s day and she’d wake me with a smile and coffee warm in my hands with breakfast cooked with love and we went to church and on the way home she’d talk about the Sunday school lesson. Always. So this is for her. Snow Cricket’s Colombian Roast: Pray. The coffee is smooth with vanilla and cream and molasses for a hint of caramel maybe toffee and a nutty undertone mild but rich like her. A good cup of coffee and a divine cordial before morning prayer. And rising very early in the morning while it was still dark he departed and went out to a desolate place and there he prayed. Mark 1:35. She’d be proud.
Fruits of the Spirit
My Mamie was wonderful. A heart bigger than anything I’ve ever known for all her grandbabies and greatgrandbabies. All of us she called precious. I remember one day I was little following her around the driveway close enough to trip her clinging to her pant leg and she moved quick and turned sharp between the cars and ran me over. Her face. I’ll never forget it. Broke her heart in two. I don’t remember the pain but just sitting on the cabinet near the sink and family all around cleaning me up. Their hands steady and voices soft. I was bawling scared and overwhelmed and there was Mamie holding my hand not leaving my side not for one second. She never let herself forget. Every time we saw each other. Every time she would say, I’ll never forget the day Mamie ran my precious baby over. Always those words. I never wanted her to stop saying it. That memory. Ours. It sat at the center of who we were and it always will. Mamie was fruits of the Spirit, all of them. She thought they were everything and loved like they were everything. Coffee at her house and oatmeal on the coffeetable and Franklin on the TV. We lived for that. So this is hers, fruits of the Spirit. An Ethiopian roast light or medium. Your choice. Light with the fruit in every sip or medium with a balance. Subtle and softer like her voice when she held my hand. A good cup of coffee for her. Galatians 5:22: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, selfcontrol. She lived it. Every word. Every day.
I Shall Not Be Moved
Papi was a man who did not waver. Faith held him like the roots of an old oak, deep and unmoving. He lived in the Word, learned it, shared it, carried it like a lantern through the dark. I remember him at three in the morning, hunched over his Bible, lips moving in prayer. There was joy in it for him. A joy quiet and steady as the dawn. He prayed not for show but because he could not help it. His favorite song was I Shall Not Be Moved. He sang it at every Biblestudy, acapella, his voice steady and unadorned. I never liked to sing, not in front of others, but I liked hearing him. I liked how the words settled in the air like a promise. He was a quiet man. Didn’t say much unless there was something worth saying. We were alike in that way. Introverts, the both of us. When I’d visit, he’d turn off Gunsmoke, which he liked to watch, and we’d sit there, saying nothing. An hour could pass. Sometimes more. We didn’t need words. Time was the thing. Just being there, close to one another. He taught me all I know of discipline and courage. How to keep going when the world is hard. He showed me the way through rites of passage, through baptism, through marriage. He lived like a man who knew the weight of things and how to carry it. This blend is for him. I Shall Not Be Moved. An espresso blend. A home brew. Good for a pourover, aeropress, frenchpress, whatever you like. Two coffees from Nicaragua, close enough to touch but each its own. One tastes of cherry and hazelnut and brown spice. The other of brown sugar, jasmine, nutmeg, anise. Together they are strong, rich, steady. I hope it satisfies. I hope when you drink it, you will feel rooted like he was. Unmovable. Like Papi.
Darkness
Darkness is a dark roast coffee and it is sin. It is what we have. It is what we are. Something we bear and something we answer for. But God has a plan. Predestined and set before us. We can follow it and be made well or we can follow ourselves and be lost. The law made us aware of sin and by the law we know we are sinners. One sin from Adam and condemnation came to all men. One act of righteousness from Christ and justification came as well. We have all sinned. We all sin still. The past and the present both testify to it. Whether by the law of Moses or by conscience we are condemned. We cannot be justified by righteousness of our own. It is not in us. The wages of sin are death. But the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus. On the day of judgment there will be no boasting. Whether in the law or in faith we fall short. Faith in Christ is all there is. Trusting that God has done for us what we could never do. The righteous will live by faith and not by works. It is humility. It is grace. We are all going to die and without grace freely given by God we are left with the law. And the law will always show that we fall short. Like there is one answer to two plus two there is only one answer to everlasting life. No one dies for the righteous. But Christ died for sinners. The dark can see the light. The light cannot see the dark. As you drink this dark roast let it remind you of what we are. Let it turn you toward Christ. Toward grace. Toward life.
Exercise Your Faith
Once we understand something it is ours. Ours to hold. Ours to use. It is easier then to see it in others. Easier to point it out. Easier to apply. But understanding does not make us exempt. It is not enough to know. It must be exercised. And in the exercising it becomes habit. It becomes like breath. Like marrow. Like something woven into us. At first it is not so. At first we are swayed. The world is full of distractions and it pulls at us. This is why diligence matters. Without it we fall away. Prayer is an exercise. Like the fruits of the Spirit. Like standing firm in faith. It is something that grows with use. The more we pray the more it becomes a part of us. A habit. A reflex. If we take the time given to bad habits and replace it with prayer then the bad is gone and the good remains. And we grow. We see this in the Word. We see it in Moses. In his prayers. In how he grew. The same is true for all faith. What we practice becomes who we are. Exercise Your Faith is a light roast coffee. A preworkout. It has more caffeine than a medium or dark roast. It is for before the Word. Before the gym. Before church or family or Bible study. Before the hunt or the cast. It gives you what you need for diligence. It reminds you to work hard at what is good. To hold to what matters. To not fall away. The Greek word spoudazo in 2 Peter means to be diligent. To labor. To strive. So strive with intent and focus. Drink this coffee and remember the work. Exercise your faith so you will not be moved.