Move Over, June Cleaver

I'll confess. Life has been steamrolling right over the top of me lately. I've had anywhere from one to all three of our guest rooms occupied since the middle of December and the last folks left on Friday. I've been buried in details with family issues, work, volunteer stuff and just keeping up with the day to day stuff. Oh my goodness, but it makes my head spin. Sometimes I find myself wishing that my life was a little more June Cleaver-ish and a little less like a hamster doing double dutch on a wheel.

This past week was one such example. Our son spent a few days with us and then went with his friend, L, to her mother's home to learn Vietnamese cooking (he is a chef and he wanted to add Vietnamese cuisine to his repertoire). L's mom took him under her wing and taught him at her home in Hilton Head, and then ended the week's lessons by returning with them and cooking an amazing meal for us at our house. A survivor of the Vietnam War, she is a fascinating person who bears an uncanny resemblance to Yoko Ono and has an amazing way with food.

My son and his friend live in Los Angeles, and there is no end to the stories they can tell - my son, from the perspective of a new resident of the area, and L, as the former editor of an online magazine about Hollywood. My older daughter, a grad student in theological school, sat around the table with us as we listened to stories of a catfish trying to make its escape across the floor of the fish market, the nuances of Vietnamese cuisine, philosophies on relationships and how to make head cheese. Difficulties with language were acknowledged with laughter, we came away from the table as friends - and I realized that mothers the world over have the same dreams for their children. The Vietnamese expatriate, the editor, the chef, the theologian and the pastor's assistant sat around the table and truly enjoyed each other's company.

You never know who God will send into your life and you miss out if you're unwilling to open the door and invite them in. I'm thankful for the revolving door and even for the chaos that life throws at me, because it makes my life richer and lets me know that I'm alive.

June Cleaver knew pretty much how every day was going to go, and life seemed pretty orderly in her household. I'm sure that each day was placid and devoid of stress (how else would she have had time to dress up the way she did?). Life was predictable.

Oh, how mind-numbingly boring that would be.