#1 NYT bestselling author Linda Lael Miller


The Holy Cafe

Imagine that Life is one big cafe.
You come in, sit down, and look at the menu.
What are you hungry for?
Hmmm.
There are so many distractions. The jukebox is playing, and you didn’t choose the tune. You get up, fumbling with the change in your pocket, and examine the choices. There are SO many, it’s overwhelming and, besides, other people have put in their quarters already, and chosen a lifetime of songs. What’s the use? You sit down again, discouraged, figuring you’ll handle the problem later. In the meantime, you’ll just have to listen to other people’s music.
The waitress comes over, pen and pad in hand. “What’ll it be?” she asks, popping her gum.
Decisions, decisions. You look at the menu again. Marriage. Children. A career. This house or that house. This car, or that car. This city or that city. This church, that church, or no church at all.
Yeesh.
You ask her to come back later.
She sighs and goes away.
You peer at the menu again. You check your watch. Time is passing.
You’d really like to order that special–the great marriage, with a good career on the side, but do you deserve it? Do you have the wherewithal to pay for it? Maybe you should settle for something less. You count the change in your pocket. Yes, maybe you should settle for less.
The waitress comes back. She’s getting impatient. “I don’t have all day,” she mutters.
Neither do you, as it happens. If there’s one thing you’re conscious of, it’s the passage of time. You’re starting not to recognize the songs on the jukebox. The scenery outside the window is changing, season to season. Furthermore, you’re getting really hungry. What if you choose the wrong thing? What if, when the bill comes, you don’t have enough to pay? Will they let you wash dishes, or have you arrested?
Pressure, pressure.
DECIDE, says the Universe. But kindly. The Universe isn’t tapping its foot. The Universe is–well, the Universe–and it has, literally, all the time there is.
You are getting older and wiser, and suddenly you look around the cafe and you realize you’re the only one there. How did that happen? The jukebox is playing the songs you didn’t choose. You call the waitress over and ask why. She answers that if you don’t choose, the thing operates by default. Plays whatever songs, at random. Frankly, she wishes you’d make a decision, because she’s tired of all those sad ballads. How about a little Reggae? How about some John Phillip Sousa? How about some good ole rock n roll??
“I don’t have much money,” you confide, ashamed, even though you don’t think this waitress is especially friendly.
That’s when she hits you with the truth.
This is your cafe.
You choose the songs.
You choose the food.
And, best of all, there isn’t any bill, because you own the place.
NOW what will you ask for?
Added caveat: The cafe scenario was inspired by my friend Chellie Campbell’s wonderful book, “The Wealthy Spirit.” I simply embellished it.

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