Enough to Energize My Day
On herbal tea and communion with God.
I woke up this morning before sunrise, as usual. And as usual, I wished I had overslept by a couple of hours. Sometimes the fatigue begins before my feet even touch the floor. Everyone’s got a name for it (adrenal fatigue, normal aging, hormone imbalance, kidney yin deficiency…), but no one has the magic cure for it. What I’m told and know is (in conjunction with proper labs and whatnot) is “Keep on doing all the right things” and “Take your supplements” and “Reduce stress” and my very favorite one of all, “It’s going to take time.” Time, I feel, that would be better spent sleeping.
But up I get because time (and children) aren’t going to wait for me. I put my slippers on and pad to the kitchen. The dishes are clean, but not put away, and I gently peel away its Jenga to find the french press, hoping not to wake the puppy in her crate. As the water in the kettle begins to release a slow steam, I softly rummage around my herb cabinet for the morning cuppa. Or should I say morning bowla, because my mug is the size of a small coconut.
Blood movers (dong quai), liver support (dandelion root), cognitive help (gotu kola) and practically-does-it-all (nettle). I throw in some nervines (milky oats), not because I need calming, but because my body needs to stop acting like life is an emergency, despite what my brain tells it. As careful as I am in blending herbs for my clients (what constituents and combinations, how many grams, what proportions, and—especially for Americans—taste), I’m extravagantly generous in portions for myself, and in following my intuition for what I need in the morning and don’t bother bringing out a scale. Also: math this early doesn’t sound fun.
All of the dried leafy herbs go into the french press, and I pour the hot water over it all to steep. All of the dried roots go into my smallest pot with a cup of more hot water, and simmer gently. I turn on the Christmas lights dressing my cedar walls and park on my metal stool, waiting.
Outside of the Lord’s return, I know how the rest of the morning will go. I’ll go through my routines, build a fire, make breakfast for everyone, and remind myself what’s for supper. Then, I’ll check my calendar and like an on ramp to the freeway, off my day will go with chores, homeschooling, appointments, lessons, projects and the occasional disasters such as broken glass or doggie poop on the floor. And, somehow, I’ll find myself back here on the other side of the day, steeping some lavender or linden or mint while watching the last of the fire in the wood stove crumple into ashes.
I strain all of the matter into my large mug, and head back to my bedroom. I’m ready to read the rest of the book of Esther, and even though I know how it all turns out, I’m still in awe of the sovereignty of a God who doesn’t even need the writer of the book to acknowledge His name. It’s especially obvious He is working all things together for His purposes and to keep His promises. Given that He is the same yesterday, today, and forever, I am content with my lot.
The sky outside is hazy now, opening into a pale blue between gray clouds as sunlight crests the cedars. My bed is unmade but I’m glad to be out of it and in my small rocker, blanket and Bible on my lap, tea in my hand, and thankfulness in my heart. Sometimes it’s a real go to get up, but the morning brew and homage to the One who never sleeps is enough to energize my day.
If you’d like a nice (and mild) morning herbal tea, try one of these recipes:
For each cup of tea, pour over with hot boiling water and steep for 5 minutes:
1 1/2 tsp cut and dried nettle
1 tsp dried milky oats
1/2 tsp dried rose (organic only)
or
1 tsp cut and dried lemon balm
1/4 tsp dried lavender
or
2 tsp dried gotu kola
1/4 tsp dried ginger