Love Notes

When I was growing up, I always joked that I'd find a man who liked to cook.  In deep south Georgia, where women did almost all the food preparation while men sat around on the couch and talked football and farming, this was more of a fantasy than an actual list item.   

I also always dreamed of having red-headed children.  I come from a long line of red heads.  It missed me, but I always hoped I'd pass that gene along.

In law school, I met my husband.  Our first Christmas together, he surprised me by cooking me dinner at my apartment.  It was really, truly, wonderfully good.  To my surprise, it wasn't just a one-time dating tactic.  His resume actually lists cooking as a hobby and interest.

I would have married him without the cooking, but it was definitely icing on the cake.

There was, of course, one catch.  My husband is Chinese, so I was sure when we married that my gene pool would be obliterated.  It was a small price to pay.

Imagine my surprise when, upon the delivery of my second child, one of the first comments out of the surgeon's mouth was:  Is his hair red???

It's not fire engine red, but it definitely has an auburn cast.

I take tiny miracles like these as evidence that God loves me in even the smallest of things.