The girls knew before Eventz even got here what he would want...PIZZA. With cheese so hard to come by in Haiti, the only pizza we ever enjoyed was homemade and rare. Lily and Sofie knew if E was only in America for a few days, helping drive a massive playground from PA to TX to ship to Haiti, he'd want delivery pizza, and that Mr. Nick would want cheesecake. I ordered a bunch of pizzas ahead of time for 5:15 delivery, ran to Kroger with the littles for cheesecake, vacuumed the guest room and we were all so thrilled to have two of our dear Stolberg friends come through Jackson.
Matt invited a student for dinner, too, and after the kids had shown E "around our new village", introduced him to some friends, drawn all the pictures and remembered all their funny stories together, we were all ready to eat. We joked about how much easier things are in America...you want pizza, you get online and order it, and tell them when to bring it, and they HAVE it, and come on time.
By 5:30, though, it was NOT on time, and the littles were really hungry, Matt had to leave to teach his Thursday night class at 5:45, and I started to stress over having three men and five kids to feed, and having only salad and cheesecake on the table.
At 5:45, my phone rang.
"Ma'am, I'm locked in the rehab center, and I don't know what to do."
For a full several minutes, I thought someone in rehab had the wrong number, and just needed a friend. I tuned out all the hungry kids around me, and before telling him he had the wrong number, asked him how he was doing, and asked him if there was anything I could do for him, or be praying about for him.
Obviously a confused and frustrated man, I was going to help him if I could.
Which is when he said, "I'm really doing ok, thanks for asking, but I seriously don't know how to get you your pizza."
This is when we realize that somehow, the pizza delivery man missed our house, went to the rehab center two blocks from our house, and was somehow locked in...perhaps able to get in through the gates, but the gate wouldn't reopen to let him out.
So Matt and Mason hopped in the car and drove down there to try to trigger the gate so the guy could get out.
A few minutes later Matt called me.
"Stace...the door will NOT open, he is locked in there for real."
"Ok," I said, improvising. "Could he hand you our pizzas through the gate, you drop them off at home and then go get the police?"
"No, Stace, listen. He is locked IN the rehab center. He went in the lobby, with the pizza, and the place was deserted, so he realized it was the wrong address, and tried to leave, and the doors are all locked, and he canNOT get out of the building. With the pizza. We called the phone numbers, and the lobby phone is ringing, and the only person there to answer IS the pizza guy! I'm on the way to the police station."
Matt was late for class.
Thirty minutes later, the pizza man, freed by the police by setting off the fire alarm, brought us our rehabilitated cold pizza. Matt's student joined us all for cold happy dinner, without Matt, and Eventz wasn't so sure things in America were all that different than things in Haiti, after all!
And at 7:30, the exact same pizza guy brought us the exact same order AGAIN, because Papa John's wanted our order replaced with HOT pizza.
Hearing the three oldest chattering in Haitian Creole and Dance-Dance-Revolutioning like old times, spending time with the ever-transparent and encouraging Nick, catching up on their family and on home... even better than all the pizza.
How thankful we all were for 16 hours of the encouragement, laughter and understanding that comes from being with old friends.
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