Last Tuesday was the Meinstein annual cookie bake. You know Christmas is just around the corner when the smell of fresh baked cookies wafts through the air. I usually find something else to do during this event. This year I was assigned to drop Crystal off at Elizabeth’s house and do some last minute Christmas shopping. After successfully completing my mission and visiting a friend in the hospital I returned to the cookie party. As I entered, I was immediately overwhelmed by the enticing aroma. Then along came the all too familiar sound of my girls talking up a storm. Along with my wife, it always sounds like four women engaged in about three simultaneous conversations. There are brief, but frequent breaks filled with giggling, and an occasional pause, which I assume is where the actual work is done. As I entered the kitchen, I saw everyone hard at work in some kind of cookie assembly line. Liz was by the oven, Michelle was rolling dough. Lisa, still dressed in her Tim Horton uniform, was helping Crystal with the baked cookies. I stealthily snuck a sugar cookie. It was still warm and Oh so buttery. After a quickly passing acknowledgement of my presence, and a report of my successful mission, I stood back and listened for a while as the symbiotic activities continued.
I hadn’t noticed the new or rather different refrigerator. The old used one, which Liz had proudly gotten, for next to nothing, about a year and a half ago was gone. The latest version apparently, and as most things in Liz’s life, had a story attached to it. About a week earlier Liz had time for a quick swallow of sustenance during her usual frenzied mom routine. She opened the frig. and grabbed the milk container. She took a quick swig. It tasted funny, but at least it was something. Later that day, Keylan stood in front of his mom with the container. Having a little more time than his mom, he had actually looked at the milk before partaking. He pointed out the lumps in the container. Of course Liz felt instantly sick. When her husband Brad heard the humorous anecdote, he examined the refrigerator. It was only slightly cool and would not continue to function no matter what he tried.
After Liz’s panic attack ended, Brad called his dad. Apparently his dad had a spare refrigerator in a storage building for just such an emergency. It was fairly new when it was put into storage some fifteen years earlier and would be a great early Christmas present. The next problem was getting the refrigerator to their house. Normally Brad could use his truck. Unfortunately it was at that time out of service and awaiting parts. I don’t know where the inspiration came but Brad’s old red radio flyer wagon came to mind. To make a long story short, picture two grown men steadying a refrigerator on top of an almost buckling children’s wagon and pushing it down the middle of the road for about two blocks.
Life is funny. Someday I’m sure Liz and Brad will laugh about this story. It helped me to recall many of Crystal and my survival stories. You can’t say God doesn’t have a sense of humor. You have to hand it to him though. No matter what the situation, somehow he will provide an answer. In some cases he will even help provide a humorous perspective to record in your blog.
Christmas at our house 2010
Merry Christmas!