Ragu

Marco and Chrissy are Italian and English, respectively and are currently inhabiting our spare-oom and gracing us with their presence in our home.  They speak delightful combinations of really good English and quite passable Italian and very eclectic English and beautiful Italian – we enjoy it all very much!!  Fellow students at Bethel’s ministry school, they are our reverse: Marco passionate and a “feeler” while Chrissy is more like David; highly intellectual, practical and a thinker.

The other night they cooked up a lovely italian dinner for us.  Pasta, al dente (of course),  amazing fresh bread and the perfectly simmered ragu (you can just imagine the way they roll the r’s when THEY say it.) We ate and our bellies grew fat and we were satisfied.  Good conversation too.

I find myself often tired, always with a next idea I can’t wait to try out,  sometimes bewildered by the turns of my life; and then I get surprised, again, by new delights.  The constant daily gifts of  Italian-made ragu and candlelight and peppery arugula salad.  The gifts of unexpected friends and of sharing.  The gift of another continent, come to us.

And then all that’s left to do  . . . . all that survives of my pondering and planning and wondering . . . . is simply a whisper . . . . “thanks.”

Leave a Comment