A Mennonite thing?

I have loved many of the Mennonite values I was raised with. One of those values is taking care of those in the community who are in need. That has often presented itself in the form of meals. Whenever a baby is born or someone has surgery or someone dies or someone moves, there are women in the church who are there with meals. I have loved how my mom helped institute this tradition/value in many of the churches we attended.

As a small admission, I remember times when either my mom or my dad had surgery, and although I didn't like the fact that they were going through something terrible, I loved the surprise of what we were going to have for dinner. It's quite fun to be on the receiving end.

About a week ago, I started with a sore throat that developed into a chest cold. By the third day of coughing through class, people were starting to ask if I was okay. At the peak of my cold last Tuesday, I received a phone call late afternoon from my Pakistani friend. The conversation went as follows.

"Hello?"
"Hello, Sheila, you want soup?"
"Soup? Do you mean tomorrow?"
"No, tonight. I make you soup. Okay?"
"Oh, okay. Tonight?"
"Yes, I will send over around 7:30. Tik?"
"Yes, okay."

I hung up the phone a little stunned. Really? How did I get so blessed to have this kind of treatment?

And with that, I found out that the Mennonite tradition of taking meals to people who are sick is not just a Mennonite thing. It's a Pakistani-thing, too. Around 8 that night, my friend's driver brought over pulao (fried rice), amazing chicken, tomato soup, and delicious mishti (dessert). I was blown away by the kindness of my friend.

A funny note to this was that Melissa and I couldn't eat all of the rice or the mishti, so we offered the rest of what we had to the guard here at the school. We didn't figure that the rice leftover would be nearly enough for him for his evening meal (since Bangadeshis can pack away the rice). We also figured he would eat only a little of the mishti (since there was still three-fourths left after we had our fill). Later we realized when we went to put the mishti in the fridge that there was no mishti left. He ate all the mishti?! Yep. We figured he substituted the mishti for the rice.

Not that I blame him at all. Who wouldn't want to eat mishti rather than rice? But, dang, I really liked that mishti.