Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Everyone should have a Hungarian mother. My own mother, the one what birthed me and raised me by dang hand is from Utah and she's the best mom in the world. But while I was in Hungary as a missionary, I had 3 women, in particular, that loved me and fed me and doted on me with motherly affection. I call them my Hungarian mothers. Love them. They could cook, boy, could they cook. And they made me tea when I coughed. And sent me home with leftovers. And now they send me Christmas cards. And facebook messages. And love. There is something very wonderful about Hungarians.
That's why I think everyone should have a Hungarian mother.
A couple of weeks ago, my dearest friend Zita came to stay with us. And that is how my kids came to have their own Hungarian mother. She pushed them on the swings. She tickled their little tummies. She amused them in the car while I drove. She refilled their sippy cups and kissed their little cheeks. And they love her--their Hungarian mother.
It's a beautiful thing.