Well, you can imagine our family's excitement when I found a local convent that sells fresh milk.
Until now we've always just gone without, and for a family of milk-drinkers and cereal-eaters that's been a difficult adjustment.
Yesterday the milk came so fresh I had to wait 1 hour for the cows to finish drinking and the men to squeeze it into their buckets. It poured into my old oil jugs almost hot to the touch, still frothy. My friend Shane, a self-admitted milk connoisseur, gave me the perfect heating instructions, 163 degrees for 30 seconds, and then get it cold quick as you can for jam-packed, full flavor. We don't have a refrigerator so we throw it in our chest freezer to cool down to a 33 degree dream. This morning we broke out a box of cereal and poured our cold milk over it. After the cereal we sat for another few minutes just sipping on more. Our bellies were happy.
While we were at the convent, I bought a loaf of bread for Tikilene and also a gallon of milk for her family. This morning when she came, I asked if her family enjoyed it. Cow's milk here is a precious rarity. Turns out she'd given most all of it away. She'd taken her gifts down to her church to share with the people there. They were praying for some sick people all night and slept on the concrete floor of the church. I wonder if she even got more than a bite of bread and a swallow of milk, and yet this example of Christ is as happy and content as she can be this morning, singing while she works. I think I have so much to learn...