Biscuit Communion

We meet at the little café – The Alabama Biscuit. The atmosphere of the small eatery is one of simplicity – with aged wood boards lining the walls and eclectic wooden tables with aluminum chairs. It is a mix of country living meets modern, and it is perfect for a little café in the city for organic biscuits, a modern twist on a Southern tradition. Two worlds have met and created their own atmosphere, and it is fun and unique. Quiet and simple, we can focus on the food and the fellowship and be distracted by nothing else but the sheer beauty of simplicity and other couples chatting.

She orders the Goat Cheese, Pecan, and Honey with a coffee and I the Ham and Cheese with an Iced Tea. She buys my food as she owes me one, and so I comply and let her. They pour her coffee and my tea, and she either sweetens or creams it and then we sit. We talk of children and family, and then our biscuits arrive. The biscuits are brown, and hers has a white creamy cheese oozing out the sides.  Honey has managed to glide off the biscuit onto the plate before it was served. The pecans sit on the cheese, and it looks delectable. Mine contains pink layers of ham and white cheese, and it is salty not sweet. Though the restaurant uses organic spelt flour, they’ve managed to make a biscuit that is healthy, tasty, flaky, and light, not heavy. The tea tastes lightly sweet, flavored with bergamot. I love its yumminess.

I pick my biscuit up and munch into it and taste it for the first time, while hers requires a fork. We eat and chat, talking about school, church, struggles, and we contemplate how we don’t know the answers to most of our questions. It is not awkward, but it is a mix of sweet communion and fellowship. She listens to me talk about being a mom and my stories. She tells me that I am doing a good job as a mom, and I drink in her words. I listen as she tells me her stories, and I commend her methods of ministry. We stay for two and a half hours, and we’ve watched people come and go until we sit alone in the café with only the managers or cashiers at the counter. It is time to go and yet we still talk some more.

She gives me a birthday gift, a reminder of the biscuit communion we’ve had and the Communion He gives – a cross bracelet. It is silver with five colored bands that remind me of pony tail holders, each a different color – blue, silver, copper, black, and green, and a silver magnetic clasp in the back. I slip to the bathroom before we leave, and then we exit and hug in the parking lot, and say our goodbyes.

It reminds me of the simplicity of fellowship I have with the Maker, for it is certain with we’ve communed with Him in this holy moment.

I sit in my trusty spot on the bed, the place I meet with Him most. I grab my Bible and I ask Him to speak to me. I open His word, and He does. I read and He speaks, and I speak and He listens. He tells me stories and I listen. He is my best friend and just like He was there in the midst of my time with my friend, He sits with me as I read His word, setting my mind at ease and speaking life into me.