TGIF

It was just another Friday – with a twist of an exciting prospect. Reason one, I took a day off from work. Secondly, I was planning for a dinner party. For this all-or-nothing rebel, I cycle through two social extremities periodically and this time it was diving in full force – a voluntary invite, including one couple whom we have not seen for over a year.

Among many of my downfalls, pride is the chief-most. And it shows even in my hosting. I would lose sleep over if not checked. My worst fear from house cleaning to menu planning is if I have enough food (and varieties) for my company. As this time there were but 2 couples, whom we have known for more than 2 decades, it wasn’t all that troublesome. Still, I managed to work myself up to comb through 3 stores and cook for 3 hours. By the time I finished racing the clock, 6:25 exactly, dinner was in the oven, table set and dishes cleaned.

To spice up my menu, I put a spin of Chinese flare: pot roast with Chinese spice, whole grain rice, roasted vegetable and 2 authentic appetizers or side dishes: spring rolls and pot stickers, the last two being everyone’s favorites but labor intensive. My vanity was the only drive I needed as I swept through the kitchen utensils and appliances to make homemade dough, shred the vegetable and grind the meat. Finally I sat down to wrap the spring rolls and dumplings. My fingers swiftly performed their magic as I had done it a million times. It felt home and peaceful. Then the door swung open, in walked the little gypsy from his daily bike patrol trip. Those saucer eyes lit up as he spotted his favorite food, dumplings. He exclaimed “ooooooh”, a simple but clear expression of joy. Instantly, my heart swelled up with matched emotion – I was happy to make my son happy. He went off to his computer while I remained in that afterglow of warmth that only a mother could fully appreciate. Suddenly I was caught unguarded by the questions: how long would I be able to make his favorite dumplings? And who would make them for him when I am gone? I felt that heart that just pumped with comfort seconds ago now constricting in such pain and panic that I could not breathe. Surely it was hardly my first time to face my own mortality, but it was the first time when I realized I could not make dumplings for him forever.

Where was the Friday cheer? My hands mechanically continued on with their task while the tears helplessly and foolishly rushed in. Gone was TGIF, my merry party and all anticipation. The house was all set for my company with food smelling mighty festive, clutters picked up and bathroom cleaned – all except that hole in my heart.

Later that night I unintentionally brought up the silly dumpling scare during our dinner conversation. Several suggestions were brought up, one of them being “Freeze a lot of them”. As the laughters filled up the room, I wondered still if our company’s claim of similar fright as all parents do was indeed valid. Even so, could their share of anxiety ever match the capacity and extent of my fear beyond dumplings? Was it my children’s “difference” that weighed down my outlook for Christians’ ultimate joyful end (or beginning) or was it just my weak faith? It was fear that brought me to the foot of the cross, and yet decades later it is still fear that brings me to the same place where I started. I couldn’t help wondering, again, on the million dollar question: am I saved?

On that particular Friday, I had meant to celebrate with all honesty and effort. It started out well but somewhat deflated despite of the good friends and conversation. Still, it wasn’t a complete lost cause. The weather was glorious with blue sky and gentle breeze. Daffodils were waking up from the deep winter dormant, checking out their new neighbors, the pansies I had bought from the nursery earlier that day. I played house all day long and most importantly my friends never ran out of food. Doubt and fear aside, I did enjoy a change of season with good friends. It was TGIF - almost.