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The Art of Talking about Chai A Lot

I don’t understand how one drink can cause such a stir. Maybe chai lattes are the Australian equivalent of those pumpkin-spice-latte-things that American’s on Tumblr and Instagram always talk about in autumn.

I’m happy being a part of the chai fan club; I know there are many, many others out there. Those who order chai’s every day (I’m not this bad, but perhaps if I had an endless supply of money or my own personal barrister we would talk about making such arrangements), those who post chai selfies on Instagram, those who steal sips of other people’s chai lattes. It’s a funny world like that.

There’s a small part of me that’s embarrassed to be writing a blog post devoted to chai, especially when I already have one, and that they’re mentioned in others. I should be talking about real issues, or something. Those things that I’m passionate about. Is it possible to be passionate about chai? I’m not sure, but I’m not. I just happen to enjoy them when I can. But shouldn’t I be talking about what I love, like Jesus? I don’t mention him much, though he is the biggest part of my life.

It’s a funny world like that.

I mean, I’m sitting here, typing up a blog post (whilst listening to my Afternoon Chill playlist 😉. No joke, I am. If I had a stalker they could prove it.) and I would much rather have an intimate relationship with God than a chai, or an endless supply of chais. (It’s saying that chais isn’t a word, but what other plural option is there? Maybe simply: an endless supply of chai. Okay, I guess that doesn’t sound as dumb as I thought it would. Moving on.)

So I’m sitting here and the deepest desires of my heart are all God the Father and Jesus and Holy Spirit, so why do I talk about chai so much? Do I think that by talking about chai I’ll feel better about myself?

I have no idea.

Not that I think there’s anything wrong about enjoying chai, or simple things like a cup of tea or a blanket or a grass, because simple pleasures help us love life. (Just thinking about being barefoot in nice springy grass is making me kind of happy.) And I certainly like reading books, not always with heaps of exciting things, but when an author can describe the protagonist making a cup of tea, and if it’s a good author they’ll make this cup of tea description last between 1-5 paragraphs and they’ll make it sound all elegant and poetic and meaningful, and I love that. I love books about ordinary things turned into beautiful things. I love reading books about everyday life, because there will be a page dedicated to a conversation between a husband and wife over breakfast, and it’s simple and made simply of “pass the salt” “lovely bacon, dear” and “have a good day, honey”, but I totally love that. It reminds you of the small things that make life awesome.

Maybe this is why I write about chai. I do believe it is. Because I like enjoying small things that bring a little bit of joy. Like when it’s cold, and you wrap your hands around a warm mug of chai. How good is that! It’s not saying that God doesn’t matter, because he totally definitely does, He matters more than anything, it’s saying God you did wonderfully thank you for this moment, thank you for inventing spices and frothy milk so that on this cold day I can enjoy a hot drink with my friends. God likes that. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made it.

And I am a firm believer that God is looking down on me while I drink my chai, and he’s smiling because I’m enjoying the beautiful planet he made, and I’m being thankful and I’m loving him and his creation and I’m happy.

So I change my mind. I am no longer embarrassed to be writing another blog post about chai, because God is in everything, and He is in my chai lattes and He is in your American pumpkin-spice-latte things that you love so much and post all over the internet every autumn. (Seriously, every single Autumn without fail. Your American cafes must run out of pumpkin-spice-latte-mix.)

Enjoy your chai, campers,

Sarah xx

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