Coffee and Collision: Journal Series 1
Hats are lined up on the wall to my left. A mural titled “Volcano de Agua” sits behind the hats on a red wall. The seats I’m sitting on look like they’re made out of hay bags. The doors shoot out to a corner on a cobbled street here in Antigua and they are made of old wood.
There are pictures of coffee and people. Guatemalan hands line the walls. The fundraiser our team created for the ministry we’re helping with this month sits on my left. This place is small and cozy, compact. Laughter bounces off the walls. This place is called Guate Java Coffee House.
It has a chill vibe atmosphere. The music reminds me of the type of music I’d listen to while eating sushi in Quincy. I’m reminded today specifically of the time I went with Michelle in summer of 2013 and we ate our weight in it.
Our squad coach Eileen commented on my blog today saying “you have been a witness… there is purpose in that. That will be your next job. To find the purpose.”
I quickly scribbled down on a piece of paper these questions: What is the purpose in being a witness? What is my purpose?
Is my purpose to come back home and tell people of what I’ve seen and experienced out here or is my purpose to keep going and seeing in hope that they may learn and see with their own eyes where they are, too? Is my purpose something entirely different? There has to be purpose in being a witness to others wherever we are, no matter the pinpoint on the map.
Whether I am colliding with people as I go or simply sharing about the people I collide with on a daily basis through the form of words, there is purpose in every form.
Nothing is wasted.
The bow of a violin is made of horse hair. In order to make sound, the player must rub the horse hair on the strings of the actual instrument, creating something called collision.
Before anything can make sound, work, or learn, there must be a collision process. Whether it’s a guitar string with the fingers of an instrumentalist, a violin bow with strings, fingers on a piano, eyes on the words of a book… Any act of of life brushing up against another — even if just for a moment — takes the first collision.
Things have to collide before they can even BE. It might be a messy collision at first, but eventually that collision becomes beautiful because it leads to something greater than the original mess, something that makes us remember to walk hand in hand with God and produce what later becomes our purpose that He gave to us from the very start.