My mother made coffee every morning and I never drank it because I did not like the taste. My grandmother offered me a cup of coffee each time I visited and I sipped because I knew that she offered it out of love. I never got into the habit of consuming coffee which sometimes has made me wonder if I am a fully official adult. My mother-in-law made hot tea for me whenever we visited and I fell in love with the brew. I’ve been a morning tea drinker ever since and on some days I even enjoy afternoon tea time in the English tradition, but without biscuits or crumpets.
The tea times with my mother-in-law on Sunday afternoons were extraordinary for me. She prepared the tasty drink the way her English mother and grandmother had taught her to do. It was a precise operation involving careful measurements of both tea leaves and water. She never skipped the critical step of warming the pot before inserting the tea. It steeped for just the right amount of time and then my she would pour it into delicate porcelain cups with a flourish of her beautiful hands.
All the while she and I would talk in the ways that women do while the men removed themselves to watch sports or discuss the issues that were concerning them at the moment. I long for those glorious times with just me and my mother-in-law sitting quietly talking about life and great thoughts. She always had a way of bringing up topics that were so much deeper than just chit chat or gossip. I learned about great thinkers and spiritual philosophers from her. I heard about essays on socio-economic issues that she had read. She recounted tales of her family’s history. She encouraged me in my own life endeavors. It was just the two of us partaking of our tea while engaging in discussions worthy of intellectual soirees in drawing rooms filled with great minds.
I always suspected that my mother-in-law enjoyed our time together as much as I did. We were both fully ourselves in those moments, two women sharing knowledge and viewpoints with each other without critique or efforts to sway each other’s minds. I suspect that we both grew from our tea times. I know that both of us were more genuine when it was just the two of us. We felt relaxed and safe enough to speak our minds without filters and without the constraints of roles that society had attempted to impose on us. We truly valued and understood each other in those moments.
There was something quite glorious in the simplicity and slow tempo of tea time, a deliberateness that signaled how cozy and safe we were to voice our ideas. There was nobody there to comment or rebut what we said. We simply took turns talking and listening intently. I for one always felt that my mother-in-law had truly heard me and I had heard her. I saw her genuine greatness and understood her brilliance finally unconstrained by societal norms. It was breathtaking to hear her ideas as were her words that lifted my spirits and increased my own confidence.
I think it was especially pleasing to my mother-in-law to have two granddaughters. She wanted me and them to know about the links between the women in her family who tended to be quiet and humble but particularly brave and strong. They were the glue that held things together, the strength that insured safe passage from one generation to the next. They were the ballast that kept the family upright. They brought the compassion and understanding that nurtured and healed the members who sometimes went astray.
I see my mother-in-law’s influence on her son, my husband, over and over again. He is so like her. He learned from her and from her mother. The two women created a strong and compassionate man willing to share duties and power with the women in his life. He sees us as equals, not subservient creatures with less to offer than males. Given that my mother-in-law lived most of her life in a male dominated role due to the times, it amazes me that she found outlets for her own talents and intellect. She made her son aware that it was time for the male half of the world to move over just a bit to make room for the women even as she dutifully kept her place whenever the occasion demanded it.
Now when I sip my tea I always think of the women who have had such a dramatic impact on me. I can see that I had role models who were extraordinary. Little wonder that I grew to be bold and willing to voice my ideas. I tried to pass down that knowledge to my daughters as well. I remind them of the long line of women from whom they have descended, their great grandmothers and grandmothers who sometimes endured almost unbearable challenges and still emerged triumphant again and again.
There is a spirituality of family and a special kind of understanding between the women who hold them together. The ritual of tea time will forever remind me of what and who is most important. In many ways making and partaking of tea has become a lovely metaphor of life and each time I sip a cup I remember my mother-in-law and feel gratitude for our tea times together and the glory of what they meant to me.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 