The miracle of grace...

So I have been living in Asia for over six months and today I was able to put all the pieces of everything that I've learned how to do, or found, or retaught myself (the way a rehab patient reteaches themselves) and make for lunch a ham and cheese sandwich.

I wish I had taken a picture of it: it was real bread, handmade out of a mixture of wheat flours that were given to me and some yeast that was also donated. It was real ham that was revealed to me at a store amidst all the other "ham" products that usually adorn the shelves and peoples stomachs. It was a very mild cheese that I have to bike for half an hour to buy. It was real mayonnaise that I never dreamed would taste like America to me. It was fresh lettuce that had been washed so many times it was almost limp. It was cut on the diagonal.

It was a thing of real and unique beauty, and I'm not even exaggerating.

It was delicious.

Seriously people, when I bit into that thing my whole body just relaxed. It was a miracle of grace to me. I ate it in the sunshine and washed it down with a glass of sweet iced tea Bojangles style. I know my Father loves me.