Coffee and Joy

Have you ever had one of those days when it feels like God is trying to tell you something?

That happens to me all the time. One of the clearest examples I can think of is the day I realized I should probably stop drinking coffee.

I had just flown back from Italy and gotten myself hooked on cappuccinos. On my way to therapy, I stopped by my local coffee shop—where I’m a regular—and said hey to the manager, whose name is Joy, before ordering my daily cup of very expensive coffee.

Joy is exactly like her name: beautiful, bright, and always cheerful.

Even my son was excited to see her.

“Daddy, look—it’s your friend!” he said. This is how you know you have a problem.

As I pulled up to the drive-through window, I noticed the license plate of the car in front of me. I will never forget it. It said: RELYGOD.

Therapy day.

I dropped my son off at school and headed toward my therapist’s office, but I was early—which meant I now had time to grab breakfast at my favorite spot nearby. Clearly, discipline was not winning that morning.

As I walked out of the restaurant, another sign caught my attention.

At the time, I just thought it was odd—especially outside a coffee shop. What were they even saying? Coffee doesn’t make you dark and bitter. And the sign wasn’t funny either. Just… strange.

Then I got to therapy.

We started talking, and I told her I’d been struggling with a lot of anxiety lately. She listened, nodded, and then said something simple and direct:

“It’s time to stop drinking coffee.”

In other words: The coffee was making me dark and bitter. Just like the sign I had read 15 minutes prior to my therapy session.

When I left her office, the first thing I thought about was Joy:the barista.

If I don’t drink coffee anymore, I don’t get to see my friend Joy anymore.

And honestly? That made me a little sad.

Then another thought stopped me cold.

Is coffee actually bringing me joy?

And if I stop drinking it… where would my joy come from?

Alcohol? No—I don’t drink.

Women? They haven’t exactly been lining up lately. And starting a new relationship seems exhausting at 40.

So the question landed hard:

Can I really experience joy without any of it? If I can't go to a bar or a coffee shop... what the heck am I going to do with my life?

And the final, absurd thought followed right behind it:

Would I ever see Joy again?