All of us coffee lovers savor the flavors of coffee from around the world. I’ve enjoyed this simple pleasure from Hawaii, Brazil, Honduras, Colombia, Jamaica, Burundi, Kenya, and, yes, even Hungary. Sitting in a roadside Café’ beside the plantation brings back fond memories and the aroma of those special tastes.

But my favorite cup of coffee was served to Lynn and me as part of a rare breakfast-in-bed surprise treat from our oldest daughter, Betsy, who woke up before we did one morning while her sisters were away at college. Betsy did her best to make coffee in our coffee maker. She must’ve watched us do it a 1000 times, but we never thought to teach her, let along ask her to do it by herself.

The fact that she didn’t know how to accurately pour the coffee into the filter, allowing some to spill into the carafe, didn’t make any difference to us. Neither did she know how much coffee to put in the filter, nor how to push the brew button yet Lynn still describes it as delicious!

It’s still my favorite cup of coffee and with it I toast the Host of heaven, with cheers to all the merrymakers around the throne who sing His praises and minister His grace with joyful memories.

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