“For what?” Gigi asks.
“To believe,” Joan says. “Like Daddy.”
Gigi grins. “He says that a lot,” she says, happy to be sitting here at the table with her mom and baby brother. “Because it will make you strong.”
Joan thinks for a moment. “Saying it won’t necessarily make me strong. Daddy believes that saying it will create faith and help us believe.”
“In what?” Gigi asks, finishing her eggs.
Joan moves her own eggs around the plate, not wanting to eat them. “In what we can’t see.”
“Like the wind,” Gigi says, shoving the last of the toast in her mouth and then showing it to Christopher, making him giggle.
Joan puts her fork down, looking at Gigi, taken aback by what she’s said. “Like the wind,” she whispers, watching Gigi and Christopher as they each open their mouths full of food. She’s never thought much about the wind, but without giving it a moment’s thought, her five-year-old daughter has touched on something unseen but real. “We see what it touches,” she says.
“What what touches?” Gigi asks, reaching for her milk.
“You’re so brilliant and amazing!” Joan says, adoring her daughter and son. “You both are!”
“Why?” Gigi says, tipping the cup to her mouth again.
“Because you said we can’t see the wind! We can’t see the wind, but we see what it touches, don’t we? The trees, the grass, flags, lakes, our hair … or at least your hair,” Joan says, chuckling.
“Our ball when it’s in the yard,” Gigi says, joining in. “Our faces and umbrellas and … what else?”
Joan opens her arms. “Everything! The wind touches everything outside, and when our windows are open, it touches our curtains and things inside the house!” She props her arm on the table, resting her chin on her hand. “Like I said, you’re brilliant!”
Gigi smiles and says, “What does it mean?”
Joan rears her head back, laughing. “It means, today’s the day! We may not be able to see God, but just like the wind we can see what He touches, right?”
Gigi shrugs. “Yes!”
Joan takes a bite of her egg and marvels at what has just happened. Was it just a cute-kid moment? Or did God use Gigi to speak this simple—but what Joan believes is a profound—truth, to her? Six months ago, Joan would have believed it was a sweet, funny-kid instance, but today? Today she ponders if God uses the smallest, most mundane moments of the day to speak to us. She’ll have to think more about that and figure out what she believes. She takes another bite of egg and lifts the recipe for her mom’s chili out of the recipe box. How many bowls of this chili did we eat throughout the years? I always made it on the days we went sledding. Remember that morning we went sledding at Grandma and Grandpa’s and you broke your arm? It was so windy that day! Joan rereads the words: It was so windy that day! She stares at the words. Of all the recipes to choose, she picked this one that describes the wind on that long-ago day. Can this be chalked up to coincidence or is God repeating or clarifying something for her? She shakes her head, not really knowing what to believe, and keeps reading.
We wrapped scarves around our faces, but the wind was blowing right through them! It was so strong! In the emergency room you said, “There better be a bowl of chili left when I get home!” You weren’t concerned about your arm, just the chili! This is the recipe I made for your sixth-grade Halloween party. I made two huge pots and they both came home empty. I remember so many of those kids said they’d never eaten chili before. That made me so sad because I just couldn’t imagine a home without a huge pot of chili. I always mixed the kind of beans I’d use: chili beans, kidney beans, red beans, and black beans. I loved making it and boy, did all of you love eating it! When you were a teen, I had to use three or four pounds of ground beef because you loved it as leftovers. And yes, on that cold, windy day when you broke your arm, there was a pot of chili waiting for you! Chili makes your house smell great when it’s cooking, and there’s nothing like coming home from school to the smell of dinner cooking on the stove. At least that’s what you always told me! That’s still a favorite memory for Joan: coming home from school and flinging open the back door to the smells of cookies, rolls, cakes, casseroles, bread, chicken, or beef baking inside the oven, or a pot of soup simmering on the stove. She looks back down at the recipe. I didn’t have a lot of skills, but I could cook and I’m glad I could because I still remember the times we spent around the table together. I believe it makes families closer. I really do! Joan smiles at the four smiley faces her mother drew at the bottom of the card.
After she puts the last bite of salad into her mouth, she gets up, smiling at the kids. “So, who’s helping me?” Gigi bounces out of her chair and Christopher turns as far around as he can in the high chair, looking for her. “Come on, big guy,” Joan says, lifting him out and getting a kiss from him. “Let’s make the house smell good!”
October 2012
It isn’t as easy as Travis thought it would be to find someone who recognizes the name of Bud the farmer. No one at the parks department recognizes the name, and he dreads telling Lauren that in his search, he has only hit dead ends. He is using a leaf blower around
