A camp-coffee liturgy

There’s a particular sound a percolator makes that I think of as the campsite version of church bells.

It’s not loud. It’s a soft tick-tick-tick as the water finds its rhythm, then the heavier plunk-plunk-plunk once it really gets going. And then the smell — coffee on a propane burner outside has no business being as good as it is, but there it is, drifting off across the pines, and the whole campsite knows the morning has officially started.

If you camp with kids, you know that’s also when the chaos starts. The tent zipper, the first “I’m cold,” the boots-on-wrong-feet question. You take the first sip of coffee at five minutes till “all hands on deck.”

So here’s something I’ve started doing, very quietly, every camp morning before the kids stir.

The rhythm

I get up. I light the burner. I put the percolator on. While it climbs to a boil, I stand outside the tent, I look at the trees, and I read one Psalm. Just one. Whichever one’s next. I don’t preach to myself about it. I don’t journal it. I just read it once, slowly, and I look at the trees again.

Then the coffee’s ready, the kids are stirring, and the day begins.

That’s it. That’s the liturgy.

Why this is here

I’m not telling you this because I think you should do it too. (Though if you’d like to, Psalm 27 is a very good place to start.) I’m telling you because I notice that on the mornings I do it, I’m a better dad for the rest of the day. I have less of the anxious-edge-of-attention thing where I’m half-in, half-thinking-about-something-else. I’m more here.

I think there’s something in the rhythm of small, repeated, small spiritual habits — the kind you don’t post about on Instagram — that actually does something.

The campsite is good for that. Everything is more visible there. The stars, your kids’ moods, the fact that you forgot the salt, the fact that you’re getting older. There’s no algorithm at the campsite. There’s just morning, then afternoon, then a fire, then sleep.

A small recommendation

If you camp this season, try this: bring a Bible. A real one, on paper. Find the Psalms. Read one in the morning while the coffee comes up. Don’t post about it. Don’t even tell your spouse. Just do it for a week and see what happens.

That’s it.

The percolator is doing the plunk-plunk-plunk. I’m going to go pour a cup.