"Are you here for dinner?"
"Yes. Is that okay?"
"Yes, yes, come on in. Have a seat. Let me call Erin and see what the plan is."
"You're not Erin?"
"No."
This is how the conversation went last Wednesday when I encountered four sister missionaries on my porch ready for dinner at five o'clock. Erin had volunteered to feed the sisters and then forgot about it. Luckily, I left work early so I was home when they arrived. I called Erin and she stopped at Cafe Rio to feed the famished sisters (being a missionary is hard work you know).
I played hostess for almost an hour as I watched the sisters nervously checking their watches as their stomachs growled. As a missionary, one is always checking her watch...it's almost like a nervous twitch. It made me miss my days as a missionary in Argentina. It reminded me of waiting in members' homes for almost an hour before we would eat lunch together. Argentines are really never in a big hurry to do much, except get their maté on. We had a nice chat of all things mission and how crazy some of the people you teach or contact are.
Well, Erin finally made it home with four pork burritos from Cafe Rio and I handed off hostess duties to her so I could rush up to the Institute to play basketball...oh did I mention church ball has started up? Yikes! No injuries have been sustained...thus far.
hahaha! Oh, I love Erin... and yes how I remember those lunch citas constantly looking at your watch while they cooked. Lunch was never ready!
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