Papi! (PART 3...LAST PART)

READ PAPI (PART 2) BEFORE YOU READ THIS!!!

"Oh, my gosh! There's the family!"  Sure enough there they were, the papi and the mami, the father with the little one straddling his shoulders, and the mother. The little girl spotted the two of us and started waving.  We waved back. The whole family approached. "Our little girl says that you were the one who found her and helped her," said the father, looking only at my husband.  Jean-Pierre was taken aback and replied, "Well, I teach young children so I recognized that she was in trouble."  He then went on to explain just what had happened. "We can't thank you enough," said the father.  "Yes, thank you, thank you," added the mother. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for finding my granddaughter," said the papi. "Thank you very much." said the mami.  "Say thank you to the gentleman, honey," the mother said to the little one.  "Thank you!"  The adults all shook Jake's hand, not even glancing at me, and blended once more into the crowd.  "Well, that was pretty incredible," I said. "Did you notice that they didn't thank me at all? They gave you all the thanks!"  Jean-Pierre sat quietly, pondering what had just happened, smiling contentedly. I pressed my point, "Did you notice that they didn't thank me once," I asked. "That's because I didn't need their thanks and God knew you did, so He gave you all of their thanks."

The following day, we visited a very large, very busy mall in a town about fifteen kilometres away.  Hundreds and hundreds of cars filled the lot, so finding a place to park was almost as painful as it had been the day before. We did a bit of shopping and decided to call it a day.  Exiting through one of the many doors, I saw that God was working His wonders once again....we came face to face with the father, his little girl on his shoulders, and the mother!  The little girl was all smiles. We adults were shocked beyond speech, to see each other again. Jean-Pierre and I were particularly amazed because except for his immediate family, we knew absolutely no one at all who lived around there.  With the throngs of people everywhere, who could ever imagine that we would run into the only other people we 'knew'?

"Hello," we all said at once.  No one knew what to say next.  Finally the father spoke to my husband.  "Thank you so much for what you did yesterday."  "Yes, thank you very, very much," his wife agreed.  "Thank you," added the little one. We all stood there awkwardly. "Well, goodbye, and thank you again." They took their leave, leaving Jean-Pierre almost gasping at the encounter. "Why did that happen? What does it mean," he asked wonderingly.  "God is showing you how much He loves you!  You needed the thanks and He made sure that you got them...two days in a row! Notice that they didn't thank me again," I quipped happily.

Papi! (PART 2)

READ PAPI! BEFORE YOU READ THIS....THIS IS PAPI (PART 2)!!!

At about the same time that Jean-Pierre was making the phone call, a man approached us and held out his arms to the whimpering child.  She collapsed into his embrace. I asked, "Is this your Papi?" She nodded contentedly, her little arms hugging his neck, her head against his chest.  The elderly couple started explaining what had happened, taking credit for everything that had transpired, making no mention of the major role played by myself and my husband.  I found it amusing that they did so, but wasn't at all concerned.  I was just so happy that my prayer had been heard.  God had placed me just where I was needed.  What more could anyone want?  To be used by Him was reward in itself. The papi thanked the couple over and over, not even glancing at me.  He was greatly relieved to have his charge safely in his arms. Each then went his own way, and I stood there, gratefully reliving the events, giving thanks and waiting for my husband to appear.

An exhausted Jean-Pierre showed up after several minutes and was surprised to find me alone. "What happened?  Where's everybody?"  I filled him in on the details and mentioned in passing that the older couple had taken all the glory for themselves. "What do you mean?  Didn't he thank you, too?" "No, he didn't even know I was part of it."  "Why didn't you tell him you and I found the little girl?" "I don't know.  It didn't seem important to me.  I was just happy that God used me, that he put me where I was needed."  My husband, however, was not at all happy about the turn of events. "You shouldn't have sent me to find the family.   I knew I'd never find them.  I walked and searched for over half an hour, but it was a wild-goose chase.  I should have stayed here.  I can't believe they didn't tell him that you and I were responsible for finding her.  You should have been thanked...not them!" "But, I didn't need the thanks.  I was just happy that God used me, that we found her and that was enough for me."  "Well, it's not enough for me," Jean-Pierre complained bitterly. "You and I should have gotten the thanks." My husband still grumbling under his breath, we set off once again down the boardwalk.  After a short time, he griped, "I'm tired from all that walking.  I need to sit down."  With the number of people milling about, it was incredible that I spotted two vacant wooden deck chairs a short distance away. He sank unhappily into one of them and I claimed the other.  "I'm so upset about the whole thing," he lamented.  You should have said something.  You should have been thanked; I should have been thanked." I sighed, but said nothing.  We sat in silence for some time, each lost in his own thoughts...some happy, some not so happy.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PAPI (PART 3)

Papi! (PART ONE)

Jean-Pierre and I had been driving back and forth, up and down the crowded avenue for nigh on thirty minutes, trying in vain to find a place to park. Since it was the height of the tourist season, there was no lack of tourists or their cars! While searching, I felt compelled to say a heartfelt prayer asking God to use me that day by putting me in the place where I was needed most.  "Father please give me the eyes to see and the ears to hear, I pray. Use me if it's Your will."

We finally found the elusive parking spot in an underground parking lot.  Emerging from the cool, shaded shelter of the garage into the bright sunlight and heat of the day, we immediately found ourselves surrounded by swarms of sightseers intent on enjoying the lovely weather, and hoping of course, to spot the occasional celebrity. Beyond, the promenade beckoned. With some difficulty, and much weaving in and out of traffic, we managed to make some headway through the tide of humanity. The path suddenly widened, enabling us to relax our pace and continue strolling in relative comfort.

The blue sea, the azure sky, the yachts, the slender palm trees, the magnificent flower gardens; eye-candy everywhere.  I found it hard to focus on any one thing...there was so much to take in.  Such pretty people; even the old folks were dressed to the nines, looking glamorous.  Take the elderly couple walking toward them on the boardwalk; they were sophistication personified.  One couldn't help but admire them as they passed by.

"Papi, Papi!"  cried the little girl who was now in our sights and running twenty metres behind the couple that had just passed us.  "Papi, Papi! Papi, Papi!"  She was calling desperately for her grandfather. I turned around to see what the granddad would do.  To my consternation, he and his wife just kept walking. Why wouldn't they stop for her?  She was all of three years old.  They might look beautiful, but they were obviously not beautiful inside.  How could grandparents hear those plaintive cries and ignore them?  The child kept up her desperate howling as she ran past the old couple.  She ran past them!  They weren't with her! Scanning the boardwalk beyond the babe, I could see no one else that looked to be the right age to be her grandparents.  Jean-Pierre reached the same conclusion at the same time.  The little girl was lost! We both turned and took off running, passing the elderly couple.  We caught up with the bawling child, each of us grabbing one of her arms to stop her.  "Are you looking for your grandfather? Can't you find him?"  Jean-Pierre asked gently as he knelt by the little girl.  "I want my Papi," she said as she struggled to get away.  "Papi! Papi!" "We'll help you find your Papi.  Do you know where he is?" She shook her head and tried in vain to pull her arm from our grip. "Don't be afraid. We'll help you find him."

The older couple had now caught up, and suspicious of the two of us, asked what was happening. Jean-Pierre explained what had transpired and the four of us were able to calm the child with repeated promises that we would indeed find her Papi. Feeling sure that the child's grandparents would by now, be sick with worry, I asked my husband to go back in the direction the little girl had come from, to look for her family.  They would certainly be recognizable in their distress!  He didn't want to leave. He knew that finding them would be an almost impossible task because of the huge crowds, but tired of listening to my continued nagging, he relented unhappily and started off down the boardwalk. The older gentleman walked a short way off and used his cell phone to contact the police while the other woman and I continued to console the little one.

Meanwhile, Jean-Pierre searched in vain on the seemingly endless esplanade that was filled beyond capacity with the summer hordes.  Left and right he looked, but could see no one who seemed the least bit distressed.  With the masses pressing in on all sides, it was like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.  Ultimately, admitting defeat, he crossed the avenue and entered one of the posh hotels, in search of a telephone with which to summon the police.

TO BE CONTINUED.....IN PAPI (PART 2)

Beeeeooootifooool Girls

Mid-March found Angelina and Sharmaine in Europe for the first time, searching the side-streets of Rome for a reasonably-priced pension, a base from which to explore the tourist traps that beckoned.  Mission accomplished, they decided that after the long plane ride, a quick wash was in order.  Angelina left Sharmaine in their quarters and made her way to the communal lavatory to take a shower.  To her chagrin, hot showers were not free, and having no lira to feed the hot-water meter, cold was the only game in town.  It took a great effort to keep from shrieking at the onslaught of frigid water.  She rushed through her ablutions and finished showering in no time flat.  Emerging from the icy bath, skin red and lips blue, she dried off hastily, dressed and retraced her steps to the room.

Rounding the corner, she saw him.  Dressed in striped pajamas in spite of the fact that it was mid-afternoon, he was on his knees at the door to their room, eye to the keyhole, licking his lips lasciviously, and staring at an oblivious Sharmaine. Unaware of Angelina's presence, he switched eyes to get an even better view. "What the heck do you think you're doing, you pervert???"  Red in the face, the culprit sprang to his feet, and muttering under his breath in Italian he scuttled off down the hall.  Entering the room, Angelina snatched several tissues and stuffed them into the keyhole.  

It was Sharmaine's turn to hurry through the torturous douche and once dressed she joined her sister to commence their explorations.  The Trevi Fountain was first on the list of things to see.  Excitedly, they exited the pension and started toward the desired destination.  

At once, they were accosted by two members of the opposite sex.  "Hey, beeeoootifoool girls.Hello, Beeeoootifoools!  Ciao dolcezza.  Where you go? Hello??" They tried their best to ignore the two young men who were intent on getting their attention, but the annoying one-sided dialogue continued. "Pssst. Pssst.  Girls? Bella regazze.  Hello?? Pssst. You are very beeeoootifoool!" Angelina felt the blood rise to her face.  "Let's cross the street," she whispered to Sharmaine.  "I'm getting pissed off!"  So, cross they did. Regrettably, the young romeos followed.  "Pssst. Hello?  Beeeoootifoools??  Hello?"  The incessant chatter didn't cease.  Angelina grabbed Sharmaine by the arm and dragged her back across the street.  "Girls, hey girls? You take our hearts.  Girls?"  Angelina had had the biscuit.  She dug in her bag, brought out her small fruit knife and turning to face their stalkers, waved it in their faces. "Go away! Go away NOW!!!  We don't want you to follow us.  Get lost. We're not interested in men."  Sharmaine added, "We don't want company. We want you to leave us alone.  GO AWAY!!!"  They laughed!  The two young men laughed at them!! Blood now boiling, Angelina spotted a police officer a short distance away. That was it! She'd had enough! Pay-back time!  "Come on, Sharmaine!"

The two girls stormed up to the officer.  "Do you speak English?"  "Yes, I do."  "Oh, good. You see these two men here?"  Angelina indicated the two who had once again pursued them and now, astonishingly, stood not two metres away.  "They won't stop following us! We've told them that we're not interested in men!"  This last statement was directed angrily at the two wanna-be beaus.  "Please, tell them to go away!  We're not interested in men.  We want them to leave us alone!" The officer spoke sternly to the two and they slunk away.  "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much," the sisters said of one accord.  They both heaved sighs of relief. "Thanks again! Goodbye," said Sharmaine.  "Gracie! Bye!" said a smiling Angelina.

"One moment, please," said the poliziotto.  The girls stopped in their tracks and turned back.  "There is a party tonight.  Do you beeeoootifoool girls like to go with me?"

See?

It was one of those days when I just had to listen to some oldies but goodies; some 60's and 70's rock.  Driving to work one fine morning, I was 'groovin' to Pink Floyd, but something just didn't sit right.  I felt I should be concentrating more on God, but my heart wasn't really in it.  I just wanted to do what I wanted to do, and at that moment, what I wanted most, was to listen to 'my' music.  "I can think about You and listen to 'Praise' music later, Father..not right now....right?"  The unsettled feeling didn't settle....it wouldn't go away but continued to nag at me.  "Okay, okay," I sighed in resignation, "I guess it's true, I should listen to some 'Praise' music."  As soon as the thought hit me, the song playing on the radio ended and the next thing I heard was the old Ocean song, 'Put Your Hand in the Hand' (see *lyrics at the bottom of the page).  Since this could be considered a 'Praise' song, and it could also be considered Rock, I was, of course, surprised and sang along happily, thanking Him for understanding. 

The song ended, and just as it did, I arrived at a red light.  I happened to glance over to the line of cars beside me, and there I saw a vehicle with the 'Jesus fish' symbol on its bumper. "Right....right. Time to change the channel, Father.  Thanks for reminding me." Dutifully, I turned the dial to our local Christian radio station, and some gentle, peaceful music immediately calmed my spirit.  I looked up to check the traffic signal, but the light hadn't turned green yet. That's when I saw it. The car directly in front of me also had a 'Jesus fish' symbol displayed on its back bumper, and just beside it was the licence plate, that read, CARLENE.  "C (see) ARLENE?"  "Yes, Father, thank you! I see!"



*lyrics to 'Put Your Hand in the Hand' (by Ocean)

Put your hand in the hand,
Of the man who stilled the water.
Put your hand in the hand,
Of the man who calmed the sea.
Take a look at yourself,
And you can look at others diff'rently,
By puttin' your hand in the hand,
Of the man from Galilee.

Every time I look into the Holy Book,
I wanna tremble (tremble).
Or when I read about the part where
The carpenter cleared the temple (temple).
For the buyers and the sellers
Were no diff'rent fellas,
Than what I profess to be.
And it causes me shame to know,
We're not the people we should be.

So, put your hand in the hand,
Of the man who stilled the water.
Put your hand in the hand,
Of the man who calmed the sea.
Take a look at yourself,
And you can look at others diff'rently,
By puttin' your hand in the hand,
Of the man from a-Galilee.

My mama taught me how to pray,
Before I reached the age of seven.
She said, "There'll come a time when
There'll probably be room in heaven."
But I'm feelin' kinda guilty 'bout,

The number of times to do

What we must do.
But we forget what He said,
Then we figure that He'll still make room.

So, you gotta put your hand in the hand,
Of the man who stilled the water.
Put your hand in the hand,
Of the man who calmed the sea.
Take a look at yourself,
And you can look at others diff'rently,
By puttin' your hand in the hand,
Of THE man from a Galilee.

Everybody come along.

Put your hand in the hand,
Of the man who stilled the water.
(Who stilled the water.)
Put your hand in the hand,
Of the man who calmed the sea.
[Fade.]
(Who calmed the sea.)
Take a look at yourself,
And you can look...

A Rose By Any Other Name!

My dear friend Sandy and her husband Adrian, were expecting their third child. They already had two wonderful sons, but this one would be a girl.  Sandy said that the new baby was a miracle.  She'd suffered ill health years before and the gynecologist that she now visited was very surprised to learn that she'd conceived after the major surgery she'd undergone.  Since Sandy was convinced that this baby was a 'miracle', she was certain that God would give her child a name.  All of her friends regaled her with the very best names for a girl, but Sandy would have none of them. A woman of great faith, she asserted over and over again, "I just know God is going to name this baby!"  Nearing the end of her pregnancy, she mentioned several times that He needed to hurry up, because the baby was due fairly soon.

The day of our departure was fast approaching, as well.  We'd been extremely fortunate to have spent eight months living in Mallorca, but would be leaving in under a week. Every Thursday, it was my habit to visit Sandy and six or seven other friends for a Bible study in their village Vilafranca, which was a twenty-five minute drive from our village, Arta.

The day of the miracle, the last Thursday before we would leave, I was, as usual, on my way to Vilafranca.  I was terribly sad that I was leaving that wonderful island and my good friends, knowing that it might be years before we'd be able to go back.  I prayed as I drove.  I thanked Him for the beautiful place he'd allowed us to live and for my new friends there.  Crying, I scanned the verdant landscape, the unique stone walls, the photogenic fincas.  I would miss the island so much.  I thought back to my high-school, Spanish teacher whose love of Mallorca and all things Mallorquin, was worn on her sleeve. "Ah, Mallorca," she would say, a dreamy look her eye.  It was always Mallorca this and Mallorca that.  Who knew that one day I, too would have the opportunity to love and eventually miss this little paradise?

Such were my thoughts, as I made my way toward the village.  Shaking myself out of my heavyhearted reverie, I turned my attention once more to my friend and her husband.  "I wonder if Adrian and Sandy have found a name for the baby, yet?" Immediately, a Hebrew word (name), the meaning of which I thought I knew, popped into my head.  I was surprised at the word, wondering at its unbidden manifestation.  "Wow, that is a beautiful name for a girl.  I really like that!"  That was quickly followed with, "Where did that name come from?"  I repeated it several times so I wouldn't forget it, intending to search for its meaning on the computer when I arrived at the house.  As I was repeating the name, the Lord put it in my heart that when I shared it with Sandy, she would get very excited and say something about it that would confirm that this was the name the baby would be given.  "So...this is from You, Father!!"

I arrived at the house, excited to see what would unfold.  I told Sandy that I had a Hebrew name that she might like.  "What is it?  Tell me!"  "First, I want to look it up to be sure of the meaning."  She waited impatiently across the desk from me while I searched for the name.  Yes, I was right!  I told her, "It means 'a return to the Promised Land'". "Well, what is it?  What's the name?" "It's Aliyah."  At that, she started to laugh excitedly and tears came into her eyes.  "After God gave me the name in the car, He told me you would get very excited and would tell me something about that name....something that happened, right?" This is what she told me...

The night before, she and Adrian were talking, by chance, about a very distant relative of his in England.  He hadn't seen this man in years but he remembered that he'd had five children, four boys and one girl.  Adrian told his wife that he remembered all of their names.  They were Paul, Dean, Donna, Nigel and Martin, and then, he said, "Then, his wife gave birth to a baby girl fifteen years later and they named her, Aliyah."  Sandy told Adrian that she really, really liked that name, and asked him why he'd never shared it with her.

What an amazing confirmation it was for Sandy and for Adrian, as well, when we called him downstairs and I had related my story once again.  "We were just talking about that name last night," he said, eyes round as saucers.  "She said she really, really liked it!"

So, just as Sandy knew He would, God did provide the name for her sweet baby girl, and I am so, very blessed to have been involved!

*see below

I asked Adrian and Sandy to read the above 'blog' and comment on it....Here are their comments...

Sandy and Adrian...could you please check this to be sure that it's correct.  Sandy, can you try to remember what you were thinking when I was looking up the word I was curious and I must have felt expectant, and how you felt after really excited and special to be receiving my miracle, awed at how God works ....and Adrian...could you try to remember how you felt when we shared the story with you I was happy and surprised and relieved that I didn't have to think of any more names! (we'd been at it for months without conceding on a name)...and could you send the names of the four boys to me?below Any other info would be welcomed...anything at all.....thanks so much! Hugs to you both. LJ had prophesied her birth and whenever he would mention it, I would tell him that I was thinking of adopting a little girl & assumed that would be the way I would have my little girl.  There was even a prophetic aquaintance of LJ that came one day with him to our house and he asked if there was a baby in the house. Nearing the end of her pregnancy, she mentioned several times that He needed to hurry up, because the baby was due fairly soon. We actually didn't know how God would name her, we thought we would probably just both be convicted of a particular name.  I kept wanting to name her Ariya because a monk had given me that name in Thailand  (very close to Aliyah) but the RRR sound in Spanish is so different from English, I didn't like how it would change with the languages.  Maybe each time I would say Ariya, God would smile and try to tell me that I was just one consonant off

(not an actual uncle, the uncle of Adrian's half brother, brother of his mom's ex-husband) of his in England.  He hadn't seen this man in years but he remembered that he had five children, four boys and one girl.  Adrian was telling Sandy that he remembered all of their names.  They were  Paul, Dean, Donna, Nigel and Martin.......and then, he said, "Then, my aunt gave birth to a baby girl years later and they named her, Aliyah (we're uncertain about the spelling)."  Sandy told Adrian that she really, really liked that name .  I asked why he'd never told me about it before!

A Rose By Any Other Name

My dear friend Sandy and her husband Adrian, were expecting their third child. They already had two wonderful sons, but this one would be a girl.  Sandy said that the new baby was a miracle.  She'd suffered ill health years before and the gynecologist that she now visited was very surprised to learn that she'd conceived after the major surgery she'd undergone.  Since Sandy was convinced that this baby was a 'miracle', she was certain that God would give her child a name.  All of her friends regaled her with the very best names for a girl, but Sandy would have none of them. A woman of great faith, she asserted over and over again, "I just know God is going to name this baby!"  Nearing the end of her pregnancy, she mentioned several times that He needed to hurry up, because the baby was due fairly soon.

The day of our departure was fast approaching, as well.  We'd been extremely fortunate to have spent eight months living in Mallorca, but would be leaving in under a week. Every Thursday, it was my habit to visit Sandy and six or seven other friends for a Bible study in their village Vilafranca, which was a twenty-five minute drive from our village, Arta.

The day of the miracle, the last Thursday before we would leave, I was, as usual, on my way to Vilafranca.  I was terribly sad that I was leaving that wonderful island and my good friends, knowing that it might be years before we'd be able to go back.  I prayed as I drove.  I thanked Him for the beautiful place he'd allowed us to live and for my new friends there.  Crying, I scanned the verdant landscape, the unique stone walls, the photogenic fincas.  I would miss the island so much.  I thought back to my high-school, Spanish teacher whose love of Mallorca and all things Mallorquin, was worn on her sleeve. "Ah, Mallorca," she would say, a dreamy look her eye.  It was always Mallorca this and Mallorca that.  Who knew that one day I, too would have the opportunity to love and eventually miss this little paradise?

Such were my thoughts, as I made my way toward the village.  Shaking myself out of my heavyhearted reverie, I turned my attention once more to my friend and her husband.  "I wonder if Adrian and Sandy have found a name for the baby, yet?" Immediately, a Hebrew word (name), the meaning of which I thought I knew, popped into my head.  I was surprised at the word, wondering at its unbidden manifestation.  "Wow, that is a beautiful name for a girl.  I really like that!"  That was quickly followed with, "Where did that name come from?"  I repeated it several times so I wouldn't forget it, intending to search for its meaning on the computer when I arrived at the house.  As I was repeating the name, the Lord put it in my heart that when I shared it with Sandy, she would get very excited and say something about it that would confirm that this was the name the baby would be given.  "So...this is from You, Father!!"

I arrived at the house, excited to see what would unfold.  I told Sandy that I had a Hebrew name that she might like.  "What is it?  Tell me!"  "First, I want to look it up to be sure of the meaning."  She waited impatiently across the desk from me while I searched for the name.  Yes, I was right!  I told her, "It means 'a return to the Promised Land'".  "Well, what is it?  What's the name?" "It's Aliyah."  At that, she started to laugh excitedly and tears came into her eyes.  "After God gave me the name in the car, He told me you would get excited and would tell me something about that name....something that happened, right?" This is what she told me...

The night before, she and Adrian were talking, by chance, about a very distant relative of his in England.  He hadn't seen this man in years but he remembered that he'd had five children, four boys and one girl.  Adrian told his wife that he remembered all of their names.  They were Paul, Dean, Donna, Nigel and Martin, and then, he said, "Then, his wife gave birth to a baby girl fifteen years later and they named her, Aliyah."  Sandy told Adrian that she really, really liked that name, and asked him why he'd never shared it with her.

What an amazing confirmation it was for Sandy and for Adrian, as well, when we called him downstairs and I had related my story once again.  "We were just talking about that name last night," he said, eyes round as saucers.  "She said she really, really liked it!"

So, just as Sandy knew He would, God did provide the name for her sweet baby girl, and I am so, very blessed to have been involved!

*see below

I asked Adrian and Sandy to read the above 'blog' and comment on it....Here are their comments...

Sandy and Adrian...could you please check this to be sure that it's correct.  Sandy, can you try to remember what you were thinking when I was looking up the word I was curious and I must have felt expectant, and how you felt after really excited and special to be receiving my miracle, awed at how God works ....and Adrian...could you try to remember how you felt when we shared the story with you I was happy and surprised and relieved that I didn't have to think of any more names! (we'd been at it for months without conceding on a name)...and could you send the names of the four boys to me?below Any other info would be welcomed...anything at all.....thanks so much! Hugs to you both. LJ had prophesied her birth and whenever he would mention it, I would tell him that I was thinking of adopting a little girl & assumed that would be the way I would have my little girl. There was even a prophetic aquaintance of LJ that came one day with him to our house and he asked if there was a baby in the house. Nearing the end of her pregnancy, she mentioned several times that He needed to hurry up, because the baby was due fairly soon. We actually didn't know how God would name her, we thought we would probably just both be convicted of a particular name.  I kept wanting to name her Ariya because a monk had given me that name in Thailand  (very close to Aliyah) but the RRR sound in Spanish is so different from English, I didn't like how it would change with the languages. Maybe each time I would say Ariya, God would smile and try to tell me that I was just one consonant off

(not an actual uncle, the uncle of Adrian's half brother, brother of his mom's ex-husband) of his in England.  He hadn't seen this man in years but he remembered that he had five children, four boys and one girl.  Adrian was telling Sandy that he remembered all of their names.  They were  Paul, Dean, Donna, Nigel and Martin.......and then, he said, "Then, my aunt gave birth to a baby girl years later and they named her, Aliyah (we're uncertain about the spelling)."  Sandy told Adrian that she really, really liked that name .  I asked why he'd never told me about it before!

A Very Good Day

“There is absolutely no way all of that furniture and all of those boxes will fit into an 5' x 8' x 7' container!  That’s smaller than our upstairs bathroom!  We should have ordered a bigger container!”  

My husband, however, was sure everything would fit, so we didn't order a larger one, and off to Toronto we went to move all of Justin’s belongings into storage.  He was in Paris, and since we're getting old and decrepit, we felt we needed someone to help us with the move.  On Justin's advice, we had arranged for his 'trustworthy' neighbour Kevin, to assist us.


That night, we slept amidst the dismantled furniture and the many boxes that littered Justin's apartment, and the next morning as we were finishing our breakfast at a local restaurant, the call came.  The container had arrived.  When we saw it, our hearts dropped!  It was way, way too small.  We envisioned having to go back to Toronto with both cars twice, to bring the ‘leftovers’ back to London, to be stored in our basement.  Why, oh why hadn’t we ordered a larger container?  Oh, well…no time for regrets...time to start loading.  

We knocked on Kevin’s door.  Several minutes later, an extremely drunk man appeared.  He smelled like a pub.  The stench of beer (especially at 9 a.m.) was obnoxious.  He was happy…you have to say that for him…a very happy drunk.  What had we gotten ourselves into?  How could this man ever help move heavy pieces of furniture and big boxes?  J.P. and I looked at each other with eyebrows raised.  Our spirits plummeted; they didn’t just drop!!!  “Would you mind if I went to get some smokes?  I’m a smoker,” he mumbled.  “Sure, go ahead.”

When he left, we lamented the fact that we had listened to Justin.  I saw the money that we would have to pay this man, spent on alcohol, and I determined at that point to pay him in kind….he wouldn’t get any money from us!!!  Fortunately, I knew that he needed a toaster oven.  Justin had told me that Kevin kept begging him for his toaster oven before he left for Europe. 

He returned...the fetching aroma of cigarette adding a new dimension to the scent that already permeated his hair, clothes and breath.  “I’m going to steal one thing of Justin’s,” he said.  “His toaster oven.  I really need one.”  I had to tell him, truthfully, that I had taken the coveted item to London the week before.  He held his head in his hands and shook it back and forth.  “OH NO!!!”  he yelled…and again, “OH NO!!!” He was terribly upset.  “But, I’ll buy you one.”  I said.  “REALLY???”  “Yes, when we finish packing everything, I’ll go get you one for helping us.”  “Oh, that makes me so happy!  I haven’t been able to cook well for months!  Mine broke and I only have a little hot plate.”  Poor guy…the things we take for granted.

J.P. and Kevin started.  In the beginning, Kevin fell a few times, almost fell many times, dropped sofa cushions in the middle of the road and staggered continually beneath the weight of furniture.  He dropped a huge box full of shoes in the street. There were shoes everywhere and in the midst of them was J.P., picking them up as fast as he could, as the traffic swerved around him.


Eventually, as the alcohol wore off, Kevin was transformed.  In fact, he was amazing! He displayed a great talent for puzzle solving, so J.P. allowed him to take charge.  Each time they manage to fit a piece of furniture into the container, Kevin would laugh loudly and shake J.P’s hand in congratulations.  There was much laughter and camaraderie between the two.  In the meantime, I was cleaning, cleaning, cleaning! Justin's vacuum cleaner had been appropriated by his friends, so I had to sweep carpets…not at all my favourite thing to do….especially wall-to-wall carpets.

Carpets swept to the landlord's satisfaction, I left and went to get Kevin his toaster oven and some groceries.  When I got back they'd just finished.  They had packed EVERYTHING except two small chairs, into that tiny container.  It was beyond incredible!  None of us could believe it!  I couldn’t stop saying, “It isn’t possible…it’s just not possible! So much furniture and so many boxes!!!  You two are awesome!”  They were so proud of themselves, slapping each other on the back in congratulations, again and again.  Their extraordinary feat was the topic of conversation until we left for London!

I praised Kevin and it was then that he decided he loved me.  He also loved his new toaster oven, of course, exclaiming over and over again just how happy he was and declaring that he couldn't wait to cook something for himself.  I haven’t ever received that many hugs in such a short span of time! “You’re not taking her home,” he kept telling J.P. in between hugs.  “You’re not taking her home.”  By that time, he had just finished imbibing several more bottles of beer in celebration of a job well done, rendering his hugs quite intense!  He didn’t want us to leave….he loved us both so much.  He went so far as to call his good friend to tell her how happy he was and how much he loved us. He then insisted that we talk to her.  It was a bit uncomfortable, but we complied.

I must say, that I quite liked Kevin.  His heart was soft and he so wanted to please.  I told him he would make a wonderful mover…he liked that.  I exclaimed over his ability to figure out where to place each object.  He loved being useful.  We were just about to leave, so it was time for one final hug.  As he was squeezing me in a last vice-like grip, I whispered to him that God could take away his addiction.  He looked at me and said, “But then, what would I do?”  I didn’t have time to answer him, but will, God willing, when we go back to Toronto and take him out for lunch or dinner.

As we were making our way to our car to go back home, Kevin was standing at the door to the house, loudly declaring his love for me.  “I love you!!!!  I really love you!!”  “I love you too, Kevin!”  “Hey, you know what,” he yelled. “What?” I asked.  He shouted, “TODAY WAS A VERY GOOD DAY!”