Gratitude

At Bethel in 2002 I tutored a woman from Kenya; I helped her to pass her Spanish class. We keep in touch. Every few years, she takes me out for coffee.

Last week, she took me out for lunch along with Andrew, her grown son. When I explained how I’d moved back to South Bend, she offered to cook for me every week. I laughed. She could cook for me two or three times in a year, I told her.

Well, I seem to have lost that argument.

A Facebook message:

I want you to know that you are my son according to our culture. So please do not let me miss my rewards for being a servant. … Remember I said when I cook I shall cook for three. … I shall cook again this Saturday. Andrew would like to know the best time to bring the food and the drink. I wait to hear from you soon.

Another:

Son, depending on when I shall be done cooking Andrew will drop the food and the drink but we shall call. … You will need to keep the drink in the fridge and drink through the week as you write, study or make it a breakfast meal. It is my hope you shall like the drink.

Tonight they brought over the food and the drink. And I do like the drink.