Making the morning fruit trays, I dump the contents of my apron onto the butcher block. As I cut oranges she tells me of living a life on foodstamps, how they ate out at McDonalds or Taco Bell everyday because it was cheaper than buying groceries. She tells me how she loves to watch me cook and wants to learn anything I am willing to teach her. I have to gulp air to not cry right there in front of her.
Another slips in later to sit on the counter stools I painted orange (stop smiling, Ruth) and tells me of parents who have been married 4, 5 times. Of "brothers and sisters" aplenty. She paints a pretty picture but then cries as I braid her hair each day. She says her own mother never did such for her.
Another, a linebacker of a man, tells me how it has been years since he as been full but that he leaves each meal here full and it is so satisfying to him in so many ways. I have no box to put this information in. As I consider it, I realize he has been eating empty carbs and junk food for so long that his body didnt remember satiation. Filled now with whole foods, he is full. Again, I marvel at the parables.
Savannah texts me from Summit, full, mind-blown and stimulated beyond imagination. She is so in her element, so joyful and full of ideas and ideals. I rejoice, dance internally before the Lord.
Doug and Peyton arrived back at Camp in the early hours of this morning. They have been in Colorado where Peyton has spent time wrapped in the arms of her dear friends and their families. She sent me videos that warmed my heart but I can hardly wait to talk to her today and kiss that handsome husband of mine.
Joy. Fruit. Awe.