The story behind our honey lavender latte.
We drove through Buda all the time prior to 2020. It was the last city before Austin so it was a source of joy whenever we were driving from San Antonio, Texas. Buda meant we were almost home. Almost back in our apartment and into the familiar smells and warmth of our space.
We didn’t know that 2020 would be the last time we’d drive through Buda as just passersby.
2020 was a watershed year for us. Lots of tears. Lots of confusion. Several turning points. Late 2019, we moved back to Austin from Seattle for a fresh start. We came back feeling tired and in search of something we both loved. We saw Phil’s family a ton. We reconnected with old friends. We threw parties. We loved on Baby brooklynd.
But during those first few months, Phil struggled to find a job.
I don’t think we realize how much of our energy and thoughts are tied up in work until we're out of a job and there's nothing to do. After all the job applications are sent and the house is clean, it's easy to find yourself twiddling your thumbs as your mind races.
Like a cloud, despair loomed over the Adcock household, and we both struggled to see God in the middle of it. But we had no choice but to keep going, kept squeezing Austin’s unforgiving job market for any drop of work, until finally a few small gigs came through.
So while Phil juggled his photography and restaurant gigs, I listened closely as my coworkers worried over this new virus that bubbled up from Wuhan, China and made its way to Seattle. I wish I cared more at the time, but Phil and I were a bit more stable and we were getting settled back into normal life. But talk of covid lingered. Then one day, I came home, for the second time in our marriage, jobless.
I was laid off and promptly rehired by the same organization, but I found myself in a spiral of grief and confusion. And in a blink, Phil was sitting at home, jobless yet again while it felt like the world around us was on fire. We know of so many covid stories that are so much more difficult and heart breaking than ours—we count ourselves lucky. But that was a tough season for us. I was home 24/7 worrying about Phil who got a job in our local HEB, interacting with guests. We tried to dance around it, but we feared covid. And we feared what our future would look like.
But God kept His grip on us.
We were able to stay connected with friends and family through FaceTime and we never wanted for anything. And when the bug bit us to buy a house, we were on a path that could take us there. So Phil worked multiple jobs while continuing his photography business, and I worked two, sometimes three jobs, saving every single penny. For a while, peanut butter sandwiches were the norm and we kept the house dim during the day to save on electricity. It took over 6 months and all our savings, but in November 2020, we closed on our casita.
Buda was at the end of a long road we didn’t expect to walk, a road filled with the thorns of racial trauma, disappointment, fear, and moments where our faith was so weak. Buda sat at the end of sacrifice. Of difficult decisions and hard conversations. Of avoiding covid and contracting complacency. Of work stressors and career miracles.
We moved into our casita and dragged a small-apartment’s worth of stuff into 3 bedrooms and a backyard. Suburbia was new and safe, but it was stable and we didn’t have noisy upstairs neighbors anymore. Buda was sleepy and friendly. The roads were smooth and the neighbors were happy to meet us. Buda was a kindness to us at the end of a tough time.
And now Buda is not the path to home. It is home.
Our honey lavender latte was designed to make you feel at home and so warm inside. We hope it reminds you of a time in your life when you felt the most cared for and known like we do now from Buda, Texas.