| Dear Family and Friends, Blessings come in all shapes and sizes. Yesterday, my blessing came in the form of three little angels. Three little angels who, quite frankly, made my week seem a little saner. Sometimes I think I�m like a nomad. It seems like every time the wind changes, my life is changing right along with it. Every time the wind rears its mighty head, I am moving here, going there, doing this and that. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be content to just settle down and stop �nomading� around! Don�t get me wrong, I love going places and experiencing new things, as is my nomadic nature, but it�s the preparation before any big change that wears me out the most. STRESS is my first name and WORRY is my middle name . . . I worry about things that I know will never happen! As a result of all of this stress and worry, my immune system does a few cartwheels and I make myself physically sick every single time. Never Fail. Yesterday, I was in bed with what I hope is just allergies and NOT a cold. This is my last week in Bulgaria, so SURE there is a lot that has kept my Stress Meter at an all time high this week, but I just didn�t feel well enough to do any of it. Suddenly, a tiny knock at my front door roused me from my drugged stupor. The little knock grew more insistent as I lay there rubbing the haze from my eyes and I thought, �Maybe I can just try to ignore it and pretend that I�m not home?� But noooooo, that was impossible, for I knew exactly whom the little knock belonged to. I can tell Iva�s knock a mile away . . . small and soft, but persistent enough to drive groundhogs out of hiding. Somewhat grudgingly, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the front door, peering through the peephole at the three little heads that stood longingly at my doorstep. �Great,� I thought with a groan. �She�s come to drive me crazy and she�s brought two of her friends along for the ride!� But then I chastised myself, �You only have a few day left in this country, you will miss her, and she loves you.� And, with that, I pulled open the front door mid-annoyinglittleinsistentknock. So, we hung out for a while, me and the little nine-year-olds that had so eloquently shown up at my doorstep without warning. Iva commenced her usually begging for me to come over to her house and I told her 352 times that I couldn�t because I was sick and I had a million things to do, but I would visit her house soon enough. �What can we do to help so that you can come with us?� she asked with pleading eyes. �Dust? Mop? Promise You Our First Born Children?� Hmmmm . . . maybe I COULD utilize the munchkins� help since I have so much to do and so little time . . . �Well,� I said, motioning to the living room. �If you really want to, you could help me clean this room . . .� And they got to work like a bunch of trained monkeys. �Man,� I thought. �What is taking me so long to have kids?!!?� They swept, they picked up, they dusted, they rearranged the furniture, and then they asked, �What next?!� A little bit of background information here, I HATE washing dishes. In fact, I think it�s my least favorite chore. So, needless to say, my dishes . . . ummmmm . . . get a little backed up at times. I could probably actually reconstruct the tower of Babel in my kitchen sometimes. And I HATE when the dishes get stacked up like that because that just means that there�s even more to do when I FINALLY get around to them, only because I am being forced to eat off of couch cushions and CD cases. WHY do I let my dishes stack up in the first place?! Because I HATE doing dishes!!! So, I asked the munchkins, �How would you like the fun and enjoyment of washing a few dishes on my bathroom floor?� Of course, they jumped at the chance and they were FILLED with mind-blowing excitement, so I loaded my tower of Babel into a big washbasin and took them to the bathroom, so that the girls would have more space for such a momentous task. So there sat three little nine-year-olds, surrounded by several leaning towers of Pisa, with their pants rolled up and their soapy sponges in hand. Don�t get me wrong, I didn�t just let them do all of the work (just the really annoying jobs!), I busied myself in the kitchen with other crucial tasks, as I listened to the girls scrub, chat, and argue with dish-washing vigor. Every now and then, I would call out, �You are wonderful!� in my most vibrant Bulgarian and then I would quietly thank God for the unexpected help, when the tasks before me this week seem endless. And, don�t worry, when they came to me exhausted, with dishwater hands and hunched over backs, I let them have their little coffee break. And I was even kind enough to pay them each with a Popsicle when their tasks were complete . . . as I re-rinsed grime off a few of the dishes! You can�t trust a nine-year-old to get it perfect, now can you?!!? So, now the tasks at hand seem less daunting and I was amazed at how much help three little girls can be. And, when they�re not yours, the best part is sending them home after they wash your dishes and clean your apartment! Do child labor laws even exist in Bulgaria?! Yesterday, my blessing came in the form of three little angels and even those *little* blessings that God gives us never ceases to amaze me. See You Soon! Chantel |
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