Ode to My French Press

A few months ago, I had a friend who sent me a sign. It now sits in my kitchen. It reads “I can do all things through prayer and coffee.”

I feel like some days, those two things are my life blood. To keep going and trying it’s a whispered prayer here, a sip of coffee there.

So as I use my faithful French press, day in and day out, I think about all it’s seen me through.

We got our first French press as a wedding gift. We had no idea how to use it so it sat on a shelf, in the box.

We honeymooned in South Africa where French press coffee is the way of the land. Sometimes my husband and I would be up and at’em before the rest of the community we were staying with and the French press was such a mystery to us that we would skip morning coffee altogether.

It took having guests on site to force us to learn the power of the French press. I bravely decided to try my hand at the French press. I ransacked the cupboards and found some coffee and then used a milk frother to make coffee. It turned out beautifully – because I had used instant coffee!

But the deliciousness of coffee made in a French press had us hooked so when we got back stateside, we finally cracked open the box and set out to use our beautiful coffee maker.

There was a learning curve – like after five years of using a French press, I’m just figuring out how to make half-pots of coffee. 

The coffee at our house has never been better. And that first honey-of-a-French press saw us through a lot of things. I avoided it when I found out I was pregnant with our first baby. It became my daily companion when I started back to work.

My French press was my pal through sleepless nights with my second baby. It welcomed us to new homes and served coffee to our guests.

That French press, I thought we’d have it forever. 

Sadly one day I received a little too much “help” from the kids unloading the dishwasher and my French press was the cost. It was a tough price to pay for an afternoon of clean dishes.

We spent weeks without a French press – a coffee-less household were we. They were hard weeks. Until a friend lent me her extra. It was like sweet nectar from heaven, that first cup of coffee. Glorious.

Her French press must have been special because it slipped off the drying rack, got dropped out of the dishwasher, like the other one, and nothing happened. It was perfect.

Someone gave us a new one as a gift. They’d won it in a basket auction and didn’t want to figure out how to use it. Their loss was our gain – for a couple of weeks before that beauty slipped off the drying rack and met a similar fate to our first one, but after much less time.

We decided glass French presses weren’t going to serve us very well with little people at home. So we asked for a stainless steel one for Christmas. 

Now we have two French presses which makes me feel prepared for company and for any dropping and breaking situation we might face in the future.

Why do I love my French press?

Not only does it make the best coffee I’ve ever tasted, it’s a daily reminder that the best things are worth waiting for.

After filling the kettle from our sink filtration system – which slows down our water supply – I have to wait for the water to boil. Sometimes I find that I need to grind more beans before I can proceed to the next step.  Once it’s boiled we put it in the French press for 3 minutes of steeping and then I can pour myself that first glorious cup.

All of the best things in my life are like that first cup of coffee – they take time to happen. 

I dated my husband for 18 months before he asked me to be his wife.

I was engaged for 6 months while I waited to become his wife.

I was sick, tired, hungry, all while feeling little baby movements before I met my darling girl.

I was tired, so tired, and worried, so worried, all while feeling little baby movements before I met my handsome boy.

And now I’m hungry, and exhausted,waiting to feel more consistent movements as I wait to meet my next little bundle. 

And that’s not the only things I’ve learned are better from waiting – jobs, moves, dreams, plans.

All of it, all of the pieces and parts of watching my beautiful life unfold around me are just like making my morning coffee.

As I pour the water into the kettle, wait for it to boil, and then wait for my coffee, I know it’ll be a great cup.