Mercy At Dawn Coffee

09/04/2026

Some things are worth getting rained on for. ☕️🌧️

There are few things less appealing than walking to the mailbox in the rain.

Unless, of course, you just got the notification:
Your coffee has been delivered.

Well.

Suddenly we are rainy weather people.
We embrace the elements!
We laugh in the face of precipitation...🤣🤣🤣
Because somewhere inside that wet mailbox are a couple bags of freshly roasted coffee, and frankly, priorities.

Hair? Thank God for the umbrella.
Shoes? Unfortunately wet.
Coffee? SECURED.

And this may be one of my favorite things about ordering coffee online. No grocery store aisle. No wondering how long that bag has been sitting on the shelf. Just fresh-roasted coffee showing up at the house like the tiny caffeinated blessing it is.

Rain or shine.

Mostly rain today. 😂

Mercy hits different at dawn. And apparently, in the rain. ☕️🌧️

Hugs from Kimberly who had just curled her hair🫣

09/04/2026

Does unopened coffee ever really “expire”—or does it just quietly lose its magic over time? In our latest article, we break down what freshness actually looks like, why roast date matters more than the calendar, and how to store your beans so that every cup still tastes like you mean it. Coffee is part of the daily rhythm in our homes, and knowing the right things to watch helps you choose with confidence—staying rooted in craftsmanship and making your pantry feel intentional.

https://www.mercyatdawncoffee.com/blogs/news/does-coffee-expire-unopened

09/02/2026

I used to think gratitude belonged mostly to the other side of waiting.

After the answer.
After the hard season.
After everything finally settled into place.

I'm not so sure anymore...

Today, some of the deepest gratitude I've known has arrived while there are still boxes unpacked, questions unanswered, grief sitting quietly in the room and plenty of work waiting for morning.

That's because this kind of gratitude isn't pretending everything is easy.

And hope isn't pretending everything will be.

There is a kind of optimism that is mostly wishful thinking...but there is another kind that looks squarely at the road ahead and says:

Yes, it will require something of me.

Yes, there are things I cannot predict.

Yes, I will have to work and learn and probably stumble a few times.

And still...

Look at what God has already carried me through!

Look at what remains.

Look at what is beginning...

Today I am profoundly grateful. Not because every difficult thing has disappeared, but because somewhere along the way, waiting taught me that uncertainty and hope can occupy the same space.

Grief and joy can sit at the same table.

An ending can make room for a beginning.

And gratitude doesn't require a finished story.

Sometimes it simply requires noticing that after a long season of asking God to "bless it or block it..."

a door has opened.

So I'll say thank You.

And then I'll roll up my sleeves.

There's work to do. ❤️

Love from a profoundly grateful Kimberly

09/02/2026

If your mornings feel rushed or noisy, a grounded ritual can change everything—starting with something as simple as your cup of coffee. This piece walks you through creating a morning routine that slows you down on purpose, using small, practical steps to bring clarity and steadiness to your day. It also highlights how meaningful craft and intentional sourcing can fit into a values-based home rhythm. If you want your coffee to feel less like a habit and more like a daily anchor, you’ll want to read this.

https://www.mercyatdawncoffee.com/blogs/news/create-morning-ritual

09/01/2026

I hereby propose the establishment of Septober. You're welcome.

09/01/2026

I woke up this September morning to another heat warning.

Apparently Summer hasn't checked the calendar.

But I have.

And somewhere deep inside, I am longing for Autumn.

Not simply for sweaters and crisp mornings and leaves scattered across the sidewalk. Although after these dusty, sweltering days, I will happily take all of that.

I think I'm longing for what Autumn means.

This has been a season of so many endings. So much change. So much that I couldn't hold onto no matter how tightly I might have wanted to.

Maybe that's why the coming of Fall feels particularly tender this year.

Because Autumn never asks us to pretend that nothing has been lost.

It shows us that letting go can still be beautiful.

The trees release what has finished its work. The fields grow quiet. The light changes. Green gives way to amber and crimson and gold.

Nothing stays as it was.

And yet somehow, nothing feels hopeless.

Maybe that's the mercy hidden in changing seasons.

God doesn't always give us the beginning before the ending.

Sometimes there is a space between them.

A September.

A threshold.

There's a place where we stand with one season behind us and another not quite here, trusting that the same God who carried us through what was will already be waiting in whatever comes next.

So yes, summer...

You may have your 90 degrees today.

But I can already hear the leaves rustling.

My heart is ready for a new season.

Mercy hits different at dawn. Especially when dawn begins to change.

08/31/2026

Yesterday I decided comfort had a shape.

It was a warm cup held in two hands.
A bowl of hot soup.
In August.
In Ohio.
When it was 90 degrees outside.

Today, apparently, survival has a shape too.

It's a quart jar. 😂

Filled with ice, coffee, cream and enough caramel to make absolutely no apologies for itself.

Because here we are on September Eve, and Ohio is still behaving like the surface of the sun.

But maybe there's something to this too.

Yesterday I needed warmth.

Today I need cold.

Yesterday called for being tucked in and tended to.

Today calls for getting up, filling the biggest jar I own, sticking a ridiculous straw in it and carrying on.

And isn't that life?

We don't always need the same thing.

Sometimes mercy looks like rest.
Sometimes it looks like comfort.
Sometimes it looks like someone making you soup.

And sometimes mercy looks remarkably like 32 ounces of creamy, caffeinated determination.

I'm learning not to argue quite so much with what I need.

Rest when you need rest.
Get up when it's time to get up.
Make the soup.
Fill the jar.
Take the mercy that comes.

Tomorrow is September.

Today?

We're surviving August with whipped cream and caramel.

And I think we're going to make it. ☕

Love from Kimberly...chugging coffee and cold foam from a quart jar 🤣🤣🤣





☕🤎

08/31/2026

I'm glad we're friends🥰

🤣🫶

🐸🍄❤️

08/31/2026

Yes it does.

Courage tastes better with coffee.