Let It Brew

It’s been a busy week and that started last weekend. On Saturday we went to Loveland and took Franklin his ornaments to put on his Christmas tree and then took him and his girlfriend, Olivia, out to supper at Nordy’s. It was a first time visit for a few of us and it was so good. The company and laughter was even better. Then, on Sunday afternoon, I went to Denver with my girls. Yes, the same ones I have written about over the years. With most of our kids now graduated and out of the nests in major ways it is more difficult to get together than ever. But we still manage and make time to do it. It was another day where fun and laughter ruled the day. I stepped on the scale this morning and was happy with the meager losses I saw. I am down another 2 pounds and that is good after coming through the holidays. Now my goal becomes not letting the Coffee Mate Peppermint Creamer take me out the next few weeks. It is a huge weakness of mine. But so far, so good.

I mulled over several topics to write about this week. They are all written down to contemplate for another day but this one just came to me after something that happened with Benjamin this afternoon. I was walking through the kitchen where he had just started the coffee maker. As it poured in fresh, dark coffee into the carafe he was watching it like it owed him money. Just staring. Waiting. Expecting it to somehow hurry up because he was watching it extra hard. I laughed and said the old phrase, “You know, buddy, a watched pot never boils.” And immediately, my brain did what it does best . . . it took that moment and tied it straight into this weight loss journey. Because if there ever was a place outside the kitchen where this phrase applied for me, it’s right here.

When you are constantly watching the scale, watching your body, watching for changes, watching for proof that what you’re doing is “working”, it becomes a special kind of torture. You start to feel like nothing is happening. Like all the effort is invisible. Like the coffee maker is broken because it hasn’t produced the final product fast enough to satisfy you. And the truth is, the process is still happening whether you stare at it or not. The water is still heating. The change is still coming. But impatience makes it feel endless.

I’ve learned . . . sometimes the hard way . . . that weighing daily is like standing over that pot with your face six inches from the steam. Every tiny fluctuation feels personal. Up a pound? Instant discouragement. Down a half pound? Slight relief. No change? Frustration when you know you are doing all the things to tip it in your favor. And most of those numbers have absolutely nothing to do with fat loss anyway. Sodium, hormones, inflammation, digestion (or lack thereof), stress . . . so many things move that needle that have zero to do with the actual work being done. Watching it too closely steals joy, motivation, and peace. It makes you question discipline when discipline is actually showing up beautifully behind the scenes. 

And that’s where trust comes in. Trusting the process enough to know that just because you can’t see the change today doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Trusting that doing the right things for the right reasons will eventually bring the right results. Discipline isn’t dramatic. It’s quiet. It’s boring. It’s doing the same things day after day without applause or instant payoff. And if you’re not careful, impatience will convince you that boring means broken.

Another thing that came to mind about watching what is right in front of you is how much damage can come from focusing too hard on right now instead of where we’re headed. If we are in a car driving and we stare straight at the hood or what is just beyond our bumper we would likely crash. You can’t safely move forward if your eyes are locked on what is immediately in front of you. And yet that is exactly what we do when we obsess over today’s weight, today’s reflection, today’s perceived failures. It is all too easy to forget that the goal isn’t to win THIS moment . . . it’s to arrive safely at the destination.

This journey isn’t about today being perfect. It’s about direction. It’s about trajectory. It’s about stacking enough good days that, over time, they create a completely different life. Just like driving, you make small corrections along the way. You don’t yank the wheel every time you drift an inch. You don’t turn around and go home just because you missed a turn. You adjust, keep moving, and trust that staying the course gets you to where you’re going. 

I reminded myself that impatience makes me harsh . . . with myself, especially. When I expect instant results, I’m quicker to criticize myself. Quicker to feel like I am failing. Quicker to forget how far I’ve already come. I lose sight of the fact that my body has carried me through a lot of years, a lot of weight, and a lot of life. This didn’t happen overnight and it isn’t going to be undone overnight either.

I am learning that impatience turns a good road into a miserable one. Weight loss already asks so much of us physically and mentally. When we demand immediate results on top of that, we make it unbearable. We rob ourselves of celebrating strength gains, consistency wins, better habits, clearer thinking, and improved health markers that don’t ever show up on a scale. We forget that the real progress isn’t how fast the coffee brews . . . it’s that it’s brewing at all. 

So this week, I will be reminding myself to step back from the pot. To stop hovering. To stop measuring my progress by minutes instead of miles. I’m choosing to trust that the heat is on and the process is doing what it’s supposed to do. Even when it feels slow. Even when it feels quiet. I’m keeping my eyes on the road ahead, not the hood of the car, because I don’t just want to lose weight. I want to arrive . . . healthier, stronger, wiser, and with my faith, joy, and peace intact.

If you’re feeling stuck, impatient, or discouraged, maybe it’s not that nothing is happening. Maybe you’re just watching it too closely.

Take a breath. Look up. Step away from the pot. 

Let it brew. The coffee is coming.