Sarah hadn’t felt much of anything for a long time. The house was quiet that December afternoon—too quiet, the kind of quiet that grief lays over a home like a heavy blanket. Lights from the Christmas tree glowed softly across the dining room walls, yet nothing in the room felt warm. It had been over a year since she lost the one who once filled the chair across from her. They were more than family to her. Losing them had carved a hollow place inside her she still didn’t know how to fill.

She sat down at the dining room table, staring at the teapot as steam curled into the stillness. That empty chair remained opposite her, a painful reminder of laughter that once filled the room. She rested a hand on her mug and whispered to the silence, “I can’t feel… anything.”

Earlier that week she had come across something I had recommended—something simple, something small, something that required no emotional investment at all. It was a tea blend: Twinings Lady Grey mixed with Twinings Chai. Citrus and cinnamon. Orange and clove. A gentle combination of warmth and brightness. She didn’t expect it to change her life, but something about the idea of doing one small thing tugged at her. So today, she decided to try.

Sarah placed the tea bags in hot water and watched as the amber color deepened—a slow blooming swirl of gold and brown. She lifted the cup, wrapping her hands around it. Warmth. That was the first feeling she’d noticed in months. She breathed in softly. At first, nothing reached her dulled senses. But she tried again. This time, she caught the faintest hint of cinnamon, followed by a soft curl of orange peel. Then something deeper—clove, gentle and grounding.

It wasn’t strong, but it was there.

And that small “there” felt like a beginning.

She took a sip. The flavors brushed across her tongue, subtle and cautious, as if asking permission to return after a long absence. Sarah exhaled slowly, surprised at how she could taste even a small hint of the blend. For the first time in a long while, her senses stirred—not fully awake, but no longer lifeless either.

Her eyes drifted to the empty chair. She expected the ache to rise, that familiar tightening in her chest. But instead, a memory surfaced—unexpected, warm, and tender. She remembered a Christmas years ago, when the two of them had crowded into this very room, laughing over mismatched teacups and burnt cookies that they pretended tasted wonderful. The memory didn’t crush her. It simply existed, soft and bittersweet, like the tea in her hands.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted,” she breathed, recalling a Scripture she hadn’t said out loud in months. A tear slid down her cheek, but it wasn’t the kind that broke her apart. It felt like release—like something frozen beginning to thaw.

Sarah took another sip and felt a small stirring of desire… to bake. It surprised her. But the thought of filling the house with the smell of apples and cinnamon again—of letting warmth return through something she created—didn’t feel impossible. It felt comforting. She remembered my Pioneer Apple Cake recipe, the one I had given her weeks ago but she had never tried. Maybe… just maybe… she could try it now.

She stood slowly, almost carefully, like someone relearning how to move after a long sleep. As she reached for her apron, she glanced back at the table and noticed something that made her pause.

Her tea was still warm.

She walked back and rested her hands on the mug again, letting the heat seep into her palms. “Maybe God kept it warm because He’s not done with me yet,” she whispered.

The empty chair no longer felt like a void. It felt like a place where love once sat—and where memories could gently sit again.

Grief doesn’t always break us. Sometimes it numbs us until we forget what warmth feels like. But sometimes healing begins in the smallest of ways: a warm mug between trembling hands, the scent of cinnamon rising in the air, the taste of citrus on the tongue, a memory that surfaces without shattering us.

You don’t have to feel everything this Christmas.

You just have to feel one small thing.

And let God meet you there.

Try the blend Sarah made today—Twinings Lady Grey mixed with Twinings Chai—and notice what you can taste, what you can smell, and what begins to awaken in you.

And if you’d like to fill your home with something warm and comforting, Mandy’s Pioneer Apple Cake is the perfect companion for this blend.

If this story touched you or encouraged you, you can support Tea Time with Mandy and future stories like this by leaving a tip on Buy Me A Coffee. Your support helps me continue writing the stories that reach the hearts of those hurting this season.