This morning found me right where most of my mornings begin — sitting in my usual chair at Starbucks, the one looking out the window where you can watch the world wake up one car at a time.
My tall blonde roast sat beside me, steam rising slow, like the day itself wasn’t in any hurry.
Leah was working the drive-thru. She always moves with that quiet confidence of someone who knows exactly who she is, even if the rest of the world is still figuring itself out. At twenty-two, she carries herself with more purpose than most people twice her age. She has that Scandinavian super model look — tall, posed, graceful and blonde — but it’s her work ethic that tells the real story. She shows up fully present, which is rarer than people realize. She has that rare combination of being both beautiful and brilliant … and I’m not sure she realizes she has either. She’s that humble.
After a bit, she stepped away from the window and walked over to the register where I stood waiting for a refill.
She glanced at my cup and smiled that familiar smile.
“You need a refill of your tall blonde?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, sliding it toward her like a man accepting a small mercy he didn’t earn.
That’s when I noticed it.
Her right arm, from wrist nearly to shoulder, was wrapped in a vine tattoo. Not loud. Not flashy. Just clean and intentional. The vine wound upward like it was growing in real time, like it had somewhere to be.
It hadn’t been there last week.
I nodded toward it.
“That’s new,” I said. “It looks great.”
Her whole face lit up.
“Thank you,” she said. “I got it because it reminds me of my favorite Bible verse. John 15:5.”
Now it was my turn to smile. I thought back to her sharing she was a recently Believer in Jesus Christ.
I didn’t have to look it up. Didn’t have to think about it.
“I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.”
For a moment, the noise faded. The grinders. The espresso machines. The milk steaming. The low conversations. All of it drifted into the background.
Just two people.
Two believers.
One ordinary morning made meaningful.
A common faith in Christ Jesus.
At twenty-two, that tattoo isn’t just ink. It’s identity, her testimony. It’s a quiet statement in a loud world. Her generation expresses faith differently than mine did. We wore crosses around our necks in the 1970s as part of the infamous Jesus movement. They write it into their story — sometimes into their skin. But the message hasn’t changed.
Stay connected.
Branches don’t survive by trying harder. They survive by staying connected to the vine.
I’ve lived long enough to know what happens when I try to do life on my own strength. Things dry up. Peace gets thin. Purpose gets blurry. You can stay busy, but something inside feels disconnected.
But when you stay close to Him — really close — something changes.
You don’t have to force it.
Strength returns.
Clarity returns.
Life returns.
Not because you earned it.
Because you stayed connected.
This morning, that truth was written in ink on a twenty-two-year-old barista’s arm.
And written again, quietly, on my heart.
“I am the vine, ye are the branches.”
For any age — twenty-two or seventy-two — that’s enough. And this morning she was my muse for this article.
“I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing”. John 15:5 KJV
Grace and Peace,
Jimmie Aaron Kepler
Did you enjoy this article? You can find more of Jimmie Aaron Kepler’s non-fiction books at NONFICTION and his speculative fiction books written as Jim Kepler at FICTION.
