Going home for dinner

I was sitting at work this afternoon contemplating working late.   I got an email from the resident chef.    “What time are you getting off?  I’m making a special dinner.”    Well.    There isn’t much that keeps me away from dinner and much less that could prevent me from being present at what my husband considers a special dinner.

When I got home, my daughter and husband had an assembly line prepped on the kitchen table.    Dried corn husks, chili pork, and dough (which I learned later is called Masa).   Oh happy day.   TAMALES!    The three of us sat together and hand rolled tamales.    One corn husk, two tablespoons of Masa, one tablespoon of pork with chili sauce.    Roll them together and fold up the end so it doesn’t all fall out.  Tuck them together in a steamer basket.    Steam for 40 minutes.

I figured if I had homemade tamales in my very near future I better get a run in.    I love days I run.    I figure if I tie on the shoes, go at least two miles and break a sweat then I can eat whatever I feel like with no guilt associated.    I should get a t-shirt that says “I run so I can eat”.

My sister and the five-year old came along for the run.    My daughter runs with me about once a week.    Normally she can do almost half a mile no problems.   Today she was tired at the first lap and asked if she could walk.    We told her to pray and ask God for strength.    That girl prayed.    “Jesus, help me.”   “God, Help, Help”.   “I know you can help me run”.    Pretty soon she was saying, “I’m not going to stop until I get home”.    When we rounded the last lap to drop her back off at home she said “Thank you for helping Jesus.   Thank you.”     About this time I was wondering if I would be able to breathe better when the lump in my throat left.    I’m amazed at the faith of this girl.

My mom talks about how when she saw me cross the finish line of the Portland Marathon that she burst into tears because she saw a picture of what it would be like when I cross the final finish line and hit heaven.   Today I understood what she was talking about when I saw the courage and faith of my daughter.

When we got home, the house smelled like heaven.   The tamales were perfect.  Warm and a little spicy.   Guess what?  Going home for dinner is a good plan.    Keeping your eye on heaven as your real home is better.   I am not going to quit until I get home. I should get a t-shirt that says that.

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