I was seventeen when my Uncle Joe took me to Italy. I had never been on a trip quite like this. Everything was new and exciting. We wandered through Rome and the sacred stillness of Assisi, soaking in cathedrals and cobblestone streets, stained glass and ancient stories.
I was in awe.
But the day that lives deepest in my memory began with a gesture I’ll never forget: Uncle Joe grabbed my hand, smiled with that sparkle in his eye, and said, “I want to take you somewhere very, very special.”
That place was Caffè Florian, the oldest coffeehouse in the world, nestled inside Piazza San Marco in Venice. We stepped into another era: chandeliers, gilded mirrors, and frescoes framed in gold. Time seemed to stand still.
As we sat down, Uncle Joe leaned toward me with reverence and delight. He told me about the history of the place—how Caffè Florian, founded in 1720, had hosted poets, philosophers, and revolutionaries. Coffee houses like this, he explained, weren’t just about drinks—they were salons of ideas, places where conversations shaped the world. Then he looked around and said, “Can you imagine what might have happened at this very table?” I nodded, trying to take it all in.
Then, in his bigger-than-life way, he told the waiter he wanted me to experience all of the coffees. This was his way. Uncle Joe always wanted me to experience life—fully, richly, unforgettably. One cup after another arrived: espresso, macchiato, cappuccino, lungo. Each one unique. Bold. Layered. Just like life. Just like him.
It was more than just a coffee tasting—it was a memory in the making, and I think we both knew it.
At one point, Uncle Joe turned serious. He reached across the table and took both of my hands in his. His eyes locked into mine. “I have some things I want to share with you,” he said. “It’s very important that you listen.”
His voice softened, but his words burned bright.
“Darling, life is meant to be celebrated. It is a wonderful adventure. But you have to search for the wonder. Search for adventure. Search for moments that make you feel fully alive—just like this moment. And if you aren’t finding those moments in life, you create them. Do you understand?”
Tears began to stream down my face, and I nodded. Yes. I understood.
Because in that moment, something sacred was unfolding. This wasn’t just a conversation. It was a gift. A legacy. A seed he was planting in my soul.
Uncle Joe told me all the things he loved about me. Not just in passing, but with intention. He saw me. He spoke to the part of me that was still forming and said, “Whatever you do in your life, I know you’ll be successful. You have something the world needs.”
Then, with complete certainty, he added, “Wherever you go, and wherever I am, I will always believe in you. I will always be with you.”
It was the first time someone other than my parents had looked at me that way—like I was already whole, already worthy, already ready to become whoever I was meant to be.
I didn’t know until much later that Uncle Joe had been diagnosed with cancer. He passed away a year after that trip.
But what he gave me that day in Venice—over those sacred cups of coffee—has lived in me ever since.
Coffee, When Made Sacred
Coffee, in our world, is often rushed. It’s squeezed into the cracks of our day, downed in paper cups, chased with distraction. But that afternoon at Caffè Florian showed me something different. That coffee can be a ceremony. It can be an opening. A threshold.
That belief became the seed for Sacred Cups Coffee.
Our coffee is ethically sourced from women and Indigenous farmers who know, like Uncle Joe did, that everything sacred begins with intention. But more than how we source our coffee, it’s what we believe coffee can do that matters most.
Coffee can create space for real connection. For presence. For transformation.
It did that for me. One cup at a time.
A Legacy That Lives On
That conversation became Uncle Joe’s gift to me. His legacy. What he left behind lives in me. It lives in every brave thing I’ve done, in every new experience I’ve said yes to, in every person I’ve believed in before they believed in themselves.
He taught me how to live fully, how to speak truthfully, and how to create moments that matter.
Now, through Sacred Cups, I want to offer that to others.
Because over one cup of coffee, something beautiful can unfold. Something unforgettable. A moment that can ripple through generations.
Your Invitation
So here’s your invitation—from me, and from Uncle Joe.
Make your next cup of coffee sacred.
Turn it into a space for connection. Take someone’s hands in yours. Look them in the eyes. Tell them what you see in them. Or sit quietly with yourself and speak to the part of you that needs reminding.
Ask the questions that matter. Share the words that last.
And if you aren’t finding the moments that make you feel alive—create them.
Because, as Uncle Joe said, life is meant to be celebrated. It is a wonderful adventure.
And sometimes, it all begins with a single sacred cup.