Ambleside Online
The Virtues of Tea
by Lynn Bruce
A pot of tea can change your children's lives. It did mine one day!
On that fall Friday afternoon, with lessons finished and the children
happily creating a parallel universe of some sort in the backyard, I
brewed myself a little pot of Earl Grey and settled into an oomphy
chair to revel in a moment of satisfaction over what I appraised as a
well-rounded week of lessons -- the rarest of rarities! But then,
through the steam rising from my cup, my eyes happened upon a stack of
oh-so-thoughtfully chosen poetry and art books gathering dust in a
corner. Ohhh, I thought, then there's THAT . . .
Feeling less smug, I rued the many weeks that slip past with no time to
squeeze in these disciplines of beauty. Days are consumed with managing
the flow of routines and getting necessary facts into little heads like
stuffing kindling into a firebox. But what use is dry kindling without
lighting and stoking a fire? I sighed over unexplored poems, art,
symphonies, Psalms, even family folklore -- those inspirations that
spark the kindling in our heads and draw fire and light into the
furnace of the heart.
I knew the dust would just gather deeper unless I found the missing
habit, the pleasant ritual, that would weave the loose ends of these
"disciplines of beauty" into the fabric of our days. I gazed into my
cup of tea, growing cooler by the minute.
Suddenly resolved to minimize my margin for motherly regrets, I dusted
off a poetry book, fetched more teacups and called in the children. And
though I did not realize it 'til many pots of tea later, in that one
resolute motion, the countenance of our afternoons was forever
lightened. By some felicity of momentary grace, I just stumbled upon
that pleasant ritual to steadily stoke those fires . . . daily teatime!
Around 3:30 pm or so, I simply stop whatever I'm doing -- regardless of
how much laundry is undone or whether school is finished or whether I
have a clue about dinner -- and enliven the air with some Bach or
Handel or whomever we're thinking about at the time, and put the kettle
on. When the whistle blows, the children know by now to wrap up
whatever they're doing and come set the table . . . tea is steeping!
Our poetry books now have a handier home in my kitchen hutch, right
below my teapot shelf. When tea is served, I read some poems, just a
few, and we may talk about them or not. Sometimes we read silly poems,
sometimes classics, some old, some new. Other times, we look at an art
book. Some days we read a Psalm. I keep it as short as the day calls
for. Then, we just linger for as long as the children care to visit.
This little moment of ceremony has transformed us more than anything I
can think of. It's what my children will remember long after the rest
of it has fuzzed to a blur.
Now, before you protest that this sort of thing is beyond the realm of
your reality, please understand: this is not an element of some sort of
dream life. It often occurs amid piles of dirty dishes and unfolded
laundry, atop a kitchen floor that, swept, would yield a hearty
contribution to the compost! But I have confidence that the Lord will
honor the good intentions of a mother's heart and somehow redeem this
time for me in my busy life. Isaiah 30:15 "For thus saith the Lord God,
the Holy One of Israel; In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in
quietness and in confidence shall be your strength..."
True to that promise, tea time has brought forth much fruit . . . I have
found that lots of narration bubbles forth during this time, as the
children recount for me all sorts of things they have read or done in
their free time, and usually without my bidding. Recently, I overheard
one child reciting a verse while playing, and I asked her where she
learned it. "From you, Mommy, at tea time!" she replied. I didn't even
recall reading it, but it had impressed itself upon her! My children
have begun voluntarily writing poetry as a result of our tea time
readings, too, and are compiling them into little collections for
binding. This is effortless fruit, the kind that reminds us that
learning can be an easy yoke, and joyful!
Keeping tea has other virtues for mothers as well. In the absence of
the hustle and bustle of the dinner hour, we can more quietly train the
habits, as Charlotte Mason would say; more steadily teach little
nuances of mannerliness, and how to handle fine things with care. Maybe
the English and the Chinese have known this for centuries, but handling
fine things automatically quiets the temperament -- a child in a wild
mood will come to a teacup and calm down just at the prospect of
lifting it. I bought each of the children their own special china cup
and saucer, and presented them all wrapped up and with great fanfare.
It took only one broken teacup to impress upon the children to handle
china gingerly; my daughter's heart was more broken than her cup when
she saw it shatter all over the floor.
Everyone is more careful since then, and I had already resigned myself
to losing a cup or two in the course of training -- it's a small price
to pay in the end for the vast improvement I see in their table
manners. Tea time produces teachable moments to train habits of helping
with kitchen tasks, too. The children help me set out a little fruit,
perhaps cheese and crackers or crunchy veggies, sometimes a few
cookies, and always lemon, honey and milk, napkins and spoons . . . the
works, and all in an orderly way.
Tea time offers lessons in clean-up cooperation as well. Dinner dishes,
especially in a large family, multiply into daunting and discouraging
proportions for training purposes. But learning to tidy up a few dishes
from tea makes the task manageable for beginners. Teatime has also
impressed upon my children the joy of serving. When we read Felicity Learns a Lesson
(from the American Girls
series) we came upon a dandy lesson in teatime etiquette: Felicity, a
colonial girl, takes a finishing course wherein she is taught the art
of taking and serving tea. All of it is spelled out in the book; I had
nothing to teach! This inspired them to learn to serve others, the
fruit of which is manifest across other situations as well. They are
more mindful of being gracious, as both hostess and guest, for having
this experience. Learning to serve others can be a pleasant lesson!
While I'm recounting the virtues of tea, here's another: with a little
snack under our belts mid-afternoon, we avoid the sinking blood sugar
crankies that used to greet Daddy when he came in the door every
evening. Now we get through evening dinner preparations with a bit more
cheer, and that means a lot to the man of the house! And, because of
teatime, I have more control over snacks -- with a healthy repast
anticipated mid-afternoon, our junk food intake is well on the wane. It
occurs to me that this daily habit of taking a moment away for renewal
is in harmony with our creation, for how does our Father teach us, from
the very beginning of things, to glorify Him? Through observing a time
of rest. So it comes as no surprise that He slips into our tea
conversation so often, and that we should come away from the table with
restored and quiet hearts, in a better frame to serve the Lord and
enjoy Him forever. Afternoon tea, that forgotten tonic of my wise
English forbears, has become the golden hour of our days. Even when we
travel, the children always remind me to pack the tea because they have
come to covet the anchor of this quiet time apart with me! And wherever
we take our tea habit, we invite others to join the fun, which has
brought forth many broadening afternoons . . . like the tea time that
prompted my grandmother to tell us tales of kinfolk she'd known who
lived through the Civil War.
Some days, the rewards of my insistence are even sweeter: the children
will come peacefully to me when teatime's done and the poetry and art
books are closed, tummies full of warm tea and yummies, heads full of
beautiful symphonies, great words or fine pictures, and give me a long,
quiet hug. I just sit and hold them until they let go, which is
sometimes a surprisingly long time. Ah, it's time for tea already!
Good. Go on now, put your kettle on, too! "Bread and water can so
easily be toast and tea."
Copyright
1998, Lynn Bruce
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