Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Old Friends

Last weekend, we attended a wedding, and enjoyed seeing many friends we hadn't seen in several years. The groom is the son of very dear church and fostering friends of ours -- our mentors and friends since before we were married. We are also acquainted with the bride and her family, so we knew most of the people attending. Some of those we last saw as teens, and now they have families of their own. That happens so quickly, it seems!

For a couple of days after the wedding, we were blessed with visitors at home, the parents of the groom. We shared a lot -- hearing about their humanitarian and church work in Mexico, our experiences in this church community, stories about former foster children we've both had including some experiences and children in common, and the trials and tribulations of fostering very challenging children. It's a special time when you can be with people whose experiences have been similar - they "just get it" in so many ways that others don't. We didn't have to fill in background stories, explain our motives, or the outcome. They just knew. It was refreshing to be together again, and we look forward to the next time, even knowing it may be years away.

We shared laughs and tears, and one evening the laugh was on me, for sure! For supper that night, I planned an Italian dinner -- two kinds of ravioli, two sauces, with salad and bread. We were spending our time visiting, instead of worrying about food, and all were things I had on hand and easy to prepare.

Everything was fine until our guest tasted his dinner and said with surprise, "Oh, there's a bite to that!" I was surprised -- he lives in Mexico, and surely eats a lot of hot things. I didn't taste that "bite," at least at first, but soon I knew what he was talking about. I checked the kitchen and discovered that instead of adding a jar of spaghetti sauce to my pot of marinara, I'd added a 16 oz jar of picante sauce. There was a "bite" to that for sure, and I think an Italian diner would be surprised! As my friend Karen said, A little Mexican never hurt anyone!

1 comment:

W. Latane Barton said...

Cute story. I bet you aren't the only one who has mistaken one can for something else. Made for a lively conversation, I bet.