The doorbell rang 5 minutes ago.
It was our regular deliveryman, with a parcel of books from my uncle in Perth. More food for the brain, yay. :)
We had our usual "How are you" chat (which never happens in Sg) and he - again - asked if I've any books for him. I realized, to my chagrin, that I'd been meaning to set aside some for him but never got round to it. But it never stops him asking again. Am reminded that our church is giving away some books. Maybe, I say to him, I can get him some? He goes away happier.
I opened the fridge to find something for tea, and unwrapped the foil-covered plate our friend Carmel had given us to take home last night. To my delight, I discovered I had a choice: cheesecake, doughnuts, banana cake and choc cupcake, delicious remnants from yesterday's feast.
We'd been at Carmel's place to listen to a presentation on what's missing in our immune systems and why so many people now have cancer and autoimmune diseases. The presenters were a young couple who pastor a church in the southeastern suburbs.
Normally, we're quite lazy about meeting new people, especially on a weekend. Looking back, I'm glad we did. We learnt something new. We got to know Carmel's relatives, friends, and friends' kids.
Around the table, accepting constant streams of food and drink, we sat and talked. And what a beautiful multicultural mix we made: Italian, Filipino, Thai, Singaporean, Ozzie.
In the backyard, 6 boys and 2 girls aged 3 to 7 were running around screaming. No one batted an eyelid at the noise, the chaos, the occasional teary outbursts as playground rules were observed (or not). Beth has been to Carmel's twice, and she loves every moment there.
And the food!
Italians are famous for their hospitality and their ability to create an occasion to remember that's centred around food, family and friends. There was homemade pizza, lots of nibbles, sweets, endless lattes and cappucinos courtesy of the Saeco coffee maker, yoghurt and jellies to keep the little ones happy as they bounced off sofas, fought each other, climbed the roof of the cubby house.
All this was produced and served tirelessly and effortlessly, the hostess enjoying the chaos as though this was something she lived with everyday.
And so, as I look at the mess in my own house and the chores that never seem to go away, I give thanks.
For the simple little things that make life pleasurable.
Food.
Family.
New friends.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
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