Brewuna Cafe

What is Brewuna Cafe?

 

Standing in the halls of the Birmingham Art Museum, gazing at the work of some of the finest American painter, I felt something in my soul stir. The face of confederate soldier, so downtrodden yet still defiant, the shadows flitting over the face of the Grand Canyon, made the rest of the world fade away. 

The moment didn’t pass, it stayed with me. The pain, the beauty, the passion that I saw portrayed in those wood-floored rooms behind gold gilt frames made my own life seem imbued with a new energy. How had I not noticed how graceful the wrinkles around a strangers eyes could be? When did the sight of the sun clinging to the horizon cease to take my breath away? 

I don’t understand how art has this power to move us. The tears that stand in our eyes as the last notes of a symphony fade away, the last line of a poem that causes our heart to swell to bursting, the photograph that make us dream of far-off places. 

At Brewuna Cafe, our goal is to bring this experience to as many people as possible. The value of art isn’t in it’s components, it is in the way it transcends and takes us to a place far removed from the ordinary. It reminds us that we are not just animals struggling to survive, but that there is a deeper and more complex answer to the mundane questions that life asks of us. 

That is the origin story of Brewuna Cafe. The idea that even in a dark place, where life seems more like a chore than an adventure, there is a desire that lays dormant. A desire to explore the creative and find our own story to tell. So here at the Cafe we hope and pray that you come ready to be lifted up, and to find your voice amidst the clamor. 

 

 

“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival”

-C.S. Lewis  

Courtesy of Quiggins Photography

May first art show

 

 

Fall: cider and donuts

Brewuna Cafe operates on a volunteer basis at the generosity of the Potter’s House Family Worship Center. If you are interested in getting involved, please message Elizabeth at elizabeth.cramton@gmail.com

N'awlins is short for "the best food anywhere"

   On my short trip to New Orleans, Louisiana, I enlisted the help of fellow foodie (and friend), Chris.

   He directed me first to Cafe Du Monde in the French Quarter for beignets and special coffee made with chicory, which I drank black (like a boss).
   Beignets are french "doughnuts", not what we would consider doughnuts, but more like a cross between a traditional doughnut and a funnel cake. Squares of a light dough are deep fried and BURIED in powdered sugar and served hot and delicious.
   The coffee at Cafe Du Monde is blended with chicory (endive root)-a habit adopted during the Civil War when coffee beans were scarce, and continued to this day. If you don't like coffee black, order a traditional cafe au lait-a mix of coffee, milk and half and half.

Read more about Cafe Du Monde

   For lunch we went to The Coops Place "where the not-so-elite meet to eat". While the atmosphere is decidedly laid-back, the Jambalaya Supreme is quite possible the most well-crafted dish I have ever consumed.
   Ever.

   One thing I always try to find when I am traveling is a used bookstore, and I hit the jackpot with Beckham's Bookshop.
 
   As soon as you open the door, the smell of aged paper and decaying spines beckons you in. Like anyone who has spent any time with old books, I have grown to love the smell the glue in the binding gives off as it slowly rots, especially when mixed with the dusty odor the pages get when they haven't been turned in years.

   Old men in long beards and longer coats walked quietly through the aisles, picking up weather-beaten copies of more recent favorites, as well as heavier tomes. The creak of old floorboards let everyone know that you were entering the upstairs area of the store, and served to warn the fat cat that lived there that someone was entering his domain.
 
   I picked up a copy of one of my old favorites, Anne of Avonlea, to add to my collection and as a souvenir of one of the most perfect bookstores I've had the pleasure to visit.

   Because nothing goes with a good book like a cup of coffee, I walked my way to Canal St & St. Charles to visit this Starbucks: 

   It was unique, it was chic, it had bathrooms that were locked with a keypad. While I love the ambiance and I love Starbucks, I do not love having all the baristas know how often I use the loo (there is no way I'm memorizing 6 digits just to piss).

   Before dinner we stopped at the mall for tea samples and popcorn. Popcorn Bistro ships folks, so even if you don't make it to the Big Easy, you can still try their wild and spectacular popcorn flavors like boiled crawfish, zesty buffalo wing and mardi gras mambo.
   Yes, please.
   After trying about a dozen flavors, I have decided that popcorn gets its own food group.

   As the temperature dropped, I stayed warm with a bowl of only slightly-but-pleasantly-spicy gumbo and a cafe au lait. A word of advice to anyone looking to visit New Orleans: bring cash. Most coffee vendors and a few other places do not accept credit cards. Shocking, but kind of nice in an old-world throwback kind of way.

   I stayed at the India House Hostel for the night,  my first time actually staying at a hostel. A creaky old house with a front room filled with hippies and stickers on the walls, it was nonetheless clean, comfortable and affordable. While I might not go out of my way to stay at hostels in the future, I was pleasantly surprised at how efficient and economical my stay was.

   All in all, my stay in New Orleans was a success. While the trumpet players in the streets, the old world European flair of the houses and shops that line streets are memorable, It's my taste buds that will never let me forget N'awlins.

Hanging baskets in the French Quarter 

Fat Cat at Beckam's that owned the upstairs 

Statue to commemorate the founding of New Orleans in 1718

The Open Road

     It's that time again. Time to pack up my little red lady, my bed on wheels, and wake up in another zip code. My backseat is loaded with pillows and blankets for when I need to take a rest, and nestled safely in my passenger seat are two of closest friends: a cooler filled with food and a bag of books.
 
      I'm set. GPS on and Pandora tuned to the Avett Brothers station, I am once again reunited with my own true love, the open road. I drive through the night and keep my self awake by singing along to my favorite songs or looking out for deer grazing by the road.
   
     Every time I leave home, I feel the conflict inside myself. I am filled with anticipation for what lies beyond the next bend, but I leave some of myself at home. Ten days of new adventure, of different faces and voices; ten days of no kisses in the morning and no cuddles goodnight, no teasing banter and familiar smiles. Every time, I ask myself: am I running toward adventure, or running away from stability? Is every jaunt into the unknown simply to undo all the things I have built, to prove that I am just a rolling stone?
    
    Too many times we look at something that is good, something that is fulfilling, and we run the opposite way in blind fear. We fear love because it asks so much of us, and guarantees so little. So we run-to anything and anyone that promises to keep us safe, to not ask too much, to stay just a little bit distant. Little by little the color and vibrancy is wiped off our smile, till we have nothing left to run to.
     By all means, run forward. Drink in every new sunset and every different smell, climb mountains and swim upstream. Just remember, in the movement forward, to hold tightly to the things that make the journey worthwhile. Savor friendships as they grow and change, gaining the patina and strength of shared memories, cherish the days that waste away slowly in the warmth of familiar companionship.

     Sometimes, the greatest adventure we can experience is the one we live every day.

Gym. Tan. Laundry?

Things you learn working at a gym:

10)  Yes, some women do roll out of bed looking gorgeous, and even in ratty sweats they will still look radiant.
And yes, it is revolting.

9)  I am not one of those women.
Don't get me wrong, on a good day, using instagram filters and a flattering  pose I think I post a solid 7. However, 8 am in gym shorts and last nights make-up is another matter entirely.

8)  You are never too old to act like a bumbling idiot in front of an attractive man.
At 25 you think you are over that blushing, stammering stage-until your making a smoothie for blue-eyes and you forget to put the lid on...

7)  Stereotypes about fit people are often false.
As much as you would like to blame your body on  your busy lifestyle, many of the most fit people I have seen hold jobs and/or go to school. Don't be so quick to write off the guys as "meat heads" just because they're big-some of them might be smarter and more educated than you are.

6) Sometimes the stereotypes are true.
These guys can talk for hours about protein and supplements, but don't expect them to know who Donne is. Or the current president for that matter.

5)  Men really don't change.
The guys watching the girls on the treadmill or the squat rack wear the same face, whether they are 16 or 65.

4) Not everyone should wear yoga pants.
At some point you have to look at people and wonder "how did they look at themselves in the mirror an walk out the door?" I'm not saying that all body types are not beautiful, but you should know what yours is and dress accordingly. To the size 14 in a size 4, you are not rocking it. You are not "owning your body", your body is owning you.
(To be fair, I have done this. I will grab my tiny sister's clothes when I have no clean laundry, and I am properly ashamed).

3)  Gyms should have an age requirement
Or at least stamp the hand of minors. Just because he can grow a beard and has a cute butt does not mean he is over 18. The horrified feeling when he walks in with his class of '14 sweater on will haunt you forever.

The two most important things working at a gym has taught me are:

2) It's never too late to change. I see people into their 70's hitting the weights and staying healthy. If they can do it then there is no excuse for me not to.
   It's not about being skinny or even looking good, it's about making time to be active because it feels good and keeps you young. I no longer view fitness as simply something to make me lean and attractive, but something that I can do to make myself healthier, stronger and more energetic.

1) No two bodies are the same.
Even fit bodies are different, so stop comparing yours to someone else's! You can do all the butt lifts you want, but if it's not in your genetics you will never have ScarJo's curves. Often times women that have a body you would kill for are still insecure. Be comfortable in your own skin, push yourself to be your best and be satisfied. Getting down to your goal weight or level of fitness will not make you love yourself-if you don't love yourself now you never will.



Happy New Years!

Potential

Seeds are not pretty. I have never heard someone stop and remark, "what a lovely seed!"

Seeds are usually withered and dark, small and insignificant.

All of their beauty is tightly bound up where no one can see, hidden on the inside.

But, oh!

When the sun comes, and the rain, the seed cracks open and reveals its true self.

Tendrils of green and white arise, roots and stalk and leaves,

The seed, the shell, long forgotten

In the beauty of new life.

 

You and I, everyone of us like a seed

contains a pent-up beauty, a life within a shell

Whether a stark beech, or a fragrant sage,

Hungry for the sun and thirsting for the rain

We still cling to our shell, like only humans can

Hiding our life, our beauty, our potential.

 

 

Why I'm not saving myself for my husband

   I started thinking about this subject because I have not one, but TWO nieces that will be teenagers this year.

   Yes, I'm properly terrified. 

   As I started thinking about all the things I've learned in the twelve years since I was their age, one of the things I thought I should address was the "purity" question. Now, growing up in a Christian, homeschooling home, I heard enough purity speeches and read enough dating material that I could probably teach a class on it. However, I don't feel like any of the things that I was taught actually brought me any closer to "purity"....instead, I think it gave me a lot of wrong ideas about purity. Ideas like:

• Purity means that you are saving your virginity for your husband

   One of the definitions of pure as defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary is "free from moral fault or guilt", and the Greek hagneia translates as "sinless of life". Don't think that just because you are NOT having sex, that you are pure.

• You should be patiently waiting for your spouse, and trying to prepare yourself for the perfect person God has set aside for you.

   How could this be a bad thing? Well, when that cute boy goes to kiss you, you don't usually ponder "what is my future husband going to think of this?" but I can't tell you how many times I have thought "what does God think about this?" To rely on my future relationship with my spouse to bring about right behavior is wrong, it is a far better thing to rely on my current relationship with a perfect God to bring about a healthy relationship with an imperfect person.

• If you save yourself for marriage, you will be blessed for your obedience by a Godly spouse

   A Godly husband is great, but if virginity is the litmus test, then does that mean that all others have to take whatever is left? Also, someone should have told that to Hosea, because lets be real, he pretty much married a hooker.

   Other ideas that tend to come across through all of this, are that the main reasons to stay pure sexually are because a) it will make your future spouse happy and b) you won't get stuck with an icky STD

So what do I believe is the right idea of purity?

• Don't stay pure FOR your future spouse. 

   If got blesses you with a Godly man, I hope and pray that you have a happy and healthy marriage. But don't follow God for him-do it because you genuinely desire God's presence in your life. Too many young girls get caught up in a "Christian Disney" fantasy, that has a sad habit of dangling romance in front of their faces in exchange for obedience.

• You don't "lose" your purity in as much as through Christ, you gain it. 

   We have this notion that our purity is something that we give away when we have sex, but we don't actually come into this world pure. We are filled with plenty of evil thoughts and desires, and true purity only comes from God. As you surrender your will to Him, He will purify your heart.

   So what can I say? What should they be thinking about when they make decisions on dating and romance as they mature?
   Here is what I have found: regardless of what man I meet in the future, my commitment to purity isn't for him. Let's face it, the happiness of a man that I don't know and that may or may not meet in the future is not exactly a strong deterrent when it comes to living a Godly lifestyle. However, there is someone that I have met, and the more I get to know Him, the more I desire a pure and holy life. Why? Because the closer I get to the Holy, the more the profane slips away.
  
    I have made a lot of mistakes, and have learned enough lessons the hard way. What I hope to share with my nieces through all of it is this: God is your true lover. Save yourself for HIM. Not just for the future when you are united with Him forever, but in every thought, in every breath you have today. Give Him your heart, your soul and your body, and I promise that He will bring you a love and a completeness that you will never find in the words or affection of a man. Whatever temptations or trials may come, the Greatest Love Story has still been written for you, and there is no man who can ever compare.
   So no, I am not saving myself for my husband, instead I am giving myself to the One that saved me.

Every new beginning

 

I do not come from this world.

     I come from a world of white and clean, not sterile but soft, with round edges and sweet smells. I knew a world existed outside of the womb like state I existed in, heard the bells ring and the dogs bark; heard doors slam and voices rise, but never did it cross the threshold into where I lived. I was a disinterested observer, gazing past the treetops to the sky, never feeling the rough bark under my skin.
      The day I was born from that world into this one came about the time I turned twenty-one. I stepped out from gentleness into bright, vivid splashes of color everywhere I looked. It was as blinding as it was beautiful, this thing called love.

     Falling in love for the first time, at least if you do it the way I did, is like jumping out a plane into a rainbow without a parachute. You know that you will probably break everything at the end, but the fall is so spectacular that you hardly think of anything else.  
     The tightness in your chest, the inability to breathe…the faster you fall the more intense every sensation gets. It is all bright red and orange and purple, a swirl of color and imaginings, like a Picasso lit on fire. After the flame burns down, the film that shields your eyes from seeing the world as it is burns away.
     In its place I found a new clarity, as well as a profound appreciation for the gentle web I was wrapped in, the sweet abode that taught me to value honesty and give to beggars, to seek the truth in every lie.  
     The world that I came from is not the one I live in now, and while I might yearn to go and crawl back to my philosophical safety blanket, I can’t. Instead I stand spattered with the red ink of heartache and the deep blue of regret, yet always looking for soft edges in a world of sharp corners, eyes wide open to the beauty of both worlds.