I Believe In

Yesterday.

I was so pleased with myself, smug almost. Two loaves of bread were rising, the girls were in the bedroom (not yet asleep, but I was hopeful), and I was putting the last touches on Mother's Day packages while sitting on the floor of a living room that looked like Hurricane Wilma's last road trip.

Then the phone rang. Sharon and Nicole? Nearby? Willing to visit?
Oh, yes please!

I love spontaneous visits, I'm excited to see cool people whose blip has nearly disappeared from our limited radar's scope, AND I wish that I'd tidied our house the day before yesterday. In lieu of finishing packages, I stacked boxes against walls like a frenzied five-year old with a mountain of legos. (Yes, this is a roundabout way of letting both mothers know that their Mother's Day packages may arrive late.)

The apartment echoed with vacuum vroom, mop squeech, and the huffing and puffing of a sedentary mama. Is is any wonder that Mildred didn't sleep a wink during her nap, questioning eyes and inquisitive head poking out of the bedroom? Anyway, the apartment looked a bit less like Wilma and a bit more like Owen when our visitors arrived, and, thanks to Sharon and Nicole being such enjoyable people, I enjoyed their visit tremendously.

It was good to hear how they and other college friends are living-- a moment brief to reconnect and hear of three years' passing. People to make the heart glad. (And Sharon, if you read this, Annika became the wild child after you two pulled away. Truly.)
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When John and I had been married only a few months, I overcooked some chicken. As I apologetically brought the dry meat to the table, he remarked, in all seriousness, that he preferred his food bland and dry. Nearly five years of marriage have turned that remark on its head, as he relishes the bite of spice on tongue and even concocts his own spicy ham and bean soup. Which is funny, because he didn't like beans, either...or soup.

The church group of which we're members is quite small. Of the twenty-odd members, at least half have come to the U.S.A. by way of Pakistan, which means our tastebuds are enriched by their offerings at any church meal. One family customarily brings a dish that both John and I love, but our attempts to procure the recipe have fallen flat. Look no longer! After scouring the Internet and tasting ingredient lists with my mind, I blindly followed a found recipe last night. We struck gold, and I've posted it and the recipe I used for Indian flatbread on buildabelly. Don't bother looking if you don't like spicy foods.

Immediately after praying and thanking God for our contact with other cultures, with the kitchen air heavy and pungent, John savored his first bites while saying, "Yep, I'm a Pakastani." Who knew? Although with his night-dark eyes and bushy beard...
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Mr. Realtor Man called last night and talked to me for about 25 minutes. I felt awkward nearly the entire time, as the conversation consisted of him gushing about what wonderful tenants we've been.

RM: When I showed the apartment to that loudmouth guy who kept saying, "WHOAH, look at all the beds in here!" I wanted to punch him. Yeah, you could have been white trash, collecting welfare, but you're not! The apartment was clean, you were gracious, you were feeding your children lunch-- and you weren't feeding them spaghettios.
ME: (to myself-- Spaghettios have high fructose corn syrup)

RM: So you're moving from a one bedroom apartment in a bad section of Depew to working toward a house? Go for it!
ME: (to myself-- What? A bad section of Depew?)

RM: I told your landlords last summer, even before the baby was born, that they could be fined for breaking NYS housing regulations with four people in a one-bedroom apartment, but they didn't want to do anything about it and I told them I wouldn't either because you guys are such gush-gush-gush tenants.
ME: (to myself-- WHAT? We're law-breaking outlaws? Woo hoo!)
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Less often than I should, I am overwhelmed not by dirty dishes and spilled drinks, but by God's unparalleled goodness in lending us our three, who enlarge our lives and give joy in unexpected places and at unlikely times. Go below for snapshots of the girls. I'll type them quickly right now before I post this.