Their business is coffee.
He grinds and tamps and extracts the perfect honey-coloured liquid. The milk is frothed until it’s thick and silky and he pours back and fourth until the delicate art forms on the top. It truly is the best coffee I’ve ever had. And I’m lucky enough to drink it every Sunday.
Their espresso bar is set up just beyond the doors of our church.
Music plays as a background to the grinding and the tapping and the chatting.
It’s not just the coffee with these two though.
It’s the jovial joking from behind the coffee machine, and the warm greetings.
It’s not just the knowing what type of coffee you’re ordering (flat white, double shot, no sugar thanks) but the knowing who you are, how your family is.
They love people with their coffee, and their genuine grins. And they love each other.
It’s obvious. It’s not a showy over-the-top loving that needs to be announced in a Facebook post. It’s the earthy and real everyday loving and serving that I see. The working-alongside, giving-my-best type love.
And we watched her little belly grow bit by bit, week by week as she wrote our name on pretty paper coffee cups. We saw the anticipation and the delight growing as she did.
And then he arrived and now they’re three.
And lucky me took my camera and spent a little hour chatting and capturing his three-week-old perfection, and the newness of life and the evolution of family. I reminisced with her my own squishy-newborn sleep-deprived days and the wonder and the worry of it all.
But can you see the God-peace in the photos? Because it was there. This tangible peace and awe of the miracle of family and the blessing of a baby.