Dear Thomas Hammer {31 Days of Letters}

Dear Thomas Hammer,

If the coffee industry operated like a high school, you’d be the Prom King.  Your the cool kid of coffee shops, and instead of envying you for it – I love you for it! You possess the mysterious quality intrinsic to popularity that makes everything you do beyond awesome.  I think you could start serving coffee sludge and it would gain traction.

There are plenty of coffee options in my neck of Idaho.  The Christian crowd congregates at Kootenai Coffee (for good reason – they have a pleasant environment conducive to conversation) and the hipsters mingle and do hipstery things downtown at Java (who could resist Java’s delicious hot chocolate).  Plus, there’s a squadron of Starbucks to choose from.

For the coffee obsessed like myself, its certainly not a chore to make the coffee rounds.  It took Tim and I two weeks to get through your doors and, boy, do we regret our two weeks of Hammerless existence.  I was immediately impressed with your clean lines, smoky blue walls, and industrial – yet warm – feel.  I was instantly transported from Northern Idaho into an Ikea catalogue.

 

When I realized you differentiate cup sizes by the typeof hammer printed on those crazy-cool orange cups of yours, I about died.  I was sold on your simple, sleek vibe alone, then I tried your coffee.  You make a white mocha that isn’t cloyingly sweet, a vanilla latte that I would drink everyday, and a chai tea that is nothing but perfect.  I would make you a daily habit if I could legitimize spending three-ish dollars a day on coffee.

Photo taken by my coffee loving husband.

 

The worst part of my time with you is when it has to end, when I reach the bottom of the cup and cannot suck one last drop from the inside of the cup.  But when my chai runs dry, I can oogle your crazy-cool mugs and shirts.  I plan to represent the Hammer (via Kelly Green t-shirt, perhaps?) and am working on Tim to sport one of your cardigans.  If that fails, he will certainly rock a beanie or travel mug.

So, if i’m not sipping a chai, know that I’m wishing I was holding a Hammer cup. You and your eclectic background music rock my coffee world!

Sincerely,

Emily

You can find all my letters here.

For more information about the 31 Day Challenge, visit The Nester.

Dear Jen Hatmaker {31 Days of Letters}

Dear Jen Hatmaker,

You are many things that I am not.  You are a fierce Texan, mother of five, and published author many times over.  I, on the other hand, am a loyal Californian living in Idaho, hoping to get past my one year anniversary without a little Gardner on the way, and only in my dreams have a published book on the shelves at Barnes and Noble.

Differences aside, we could (and should) be friends.  Within the first few pages of 7, I realized we were cut out of the same cloth, which just so happens to be a burlap coffee sack.  By the time I finished – and by finished, I  mean laughed, commiserated, and gave a hearty Amen! – the first chapter, I was doubly convinced that we would get along.  Coffee, ahem.. caffeine, is a pretty strong agent for community, wouldn’t you say?

Your reflections from Day 19 proved that I was not alone in the world.  You may not have every jot and tittle of your books on immediate recall, so permit me to quote you:

I escaped narrowly by chewing gum like a quitting smoker.  I should tell you that every time I’ve been in Sprouts, I’ve put my nose directly on the glass cases of bulk coffee beans and inhaled like a deranged weirdo. I mean, deeply inhaled.  For at least ten seconds.  Nose to the glass.  The only possible way I could act more disturbing is if I ground up some beans, made a line with a razor blade, and snorted it in the middle of aisle 9.

My gosh.  I think I have a problem.  A friend asked if I was quitting coffee after this month was up.  I told her I’d considered renouncing coffee exactly zero times, and if she ever brought up such foolishness again, I was going to quit her.

Yeah.  I definitely have a problem.

{page 34 from 7: An Experimental Mutiny against Excess}

I laughed right out loud when I read that, clutching my steaming cup of morning joe a little tighter so as not to splatter the pages of 7 with upset coffee.  Though, coffee splatters would have made the book smell good… Visual aids promote help retention, right?  I digress…

Besides celebrating our shared coffee addiction (and hoping we can be friends), I wanted to thank you for writing 7.  Some people find it a bit gimmicky, and to that I say, so what?  The fact that you got paid to eat seven foods or wear seven items of clothing doesn’t diminish what the Holy Spirit did in you and what He will do in people like me who get to journey with you because you wrote the book.

I love how you describe a fast not as restriction for restriction sake, but as reductions and limitations to create more space for God to move, stretch, and transform.  This journey of yours isn’t about numbers.  It’s about becoming maleable, letting God mold you into something that looks more like Him.

Thank you for being candid and just downright hilarious in the process.  If you’re ever in Northern Idaho, lets get coffee!

Sincerely,

Emily

PS to readers:

I really would like to be friends with Jen Hatmaker.  In the meantime, I enjoy reading her blog posts and books; both of which you can check devour on her website.

And, please put 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess on your reading list!

Keep up with 31 Days of Letters.

Writing tomorrow’s left me emotionally spent…

Day one: Dear #217