wednesday expectations.

I expect a few things on Wednesdays.

Survivor. Criminal Minds.

And, recently added to the list, a letter from a boy who wears a name tag.

Last Wednesday, I watched my mailman pull his little white car to the mail boxes for my complex. I watched him slowly, ever-so slowly, sort the mail into the little boxes. Then, when I was feeling like a really big stalker, I watched as he finally finished and drove away.

Let me pause for a moment. Last, last week. Easter weekend for you folks who don’t share my complex brain. I sent this young man cookies, because I was home and my local UPS store does same day MTC delivery. When deciding what kind to make, my father found the recipe and handed it to me stating “This is a man-catching cookie recipe. Make these ones and he’s yours.” I informed him that you cannot catch a man whilst he is on a mission. He told me that no one ever got anywhere with that attitude.

I made the ‘man-catching’ cookies and sent them away for two dollars. I was anxious for his response to my somewhat bold move. A package is kind of a big deal. I was so excited for Wednesday to come. I had a dream about his letter the night before.

Okay, play.

I ran downstairs to grab the mail key so I could go check the mail. It wasn’t on the key hooks. I looked everywhere to no avail. Then, I remembered that my roommates went to the pool and the mail key is on the same key chain as the pool key. So I ran to the pool but the pool was closed. Yada, yada, yada, I finally found the pool key in my roommates bicycle basket.

I ran to the mailbox, thrust the key in, and flung the little gray door open. To find…

Nothing.

I did not get a little blue envelope. This was his last Wednesday in the MTC.

He hated the cookies, I was too bold, and other thoughts rushed in my mind as the day went by.

While I was in my math class, sulking in the back row I remembered something very important. I used my home address on the box of cookies. He might have sent the letter to my home address!

An hour later, I got a call from my dad telling me that “The cookies must have worked.”

Ah. These missionaries.

He made up for all the stress with a very nice letter that made me so very happy. I didn’t get it until Friday, but, like all good things,

 it was worth the wait.  

Happy Wednesday Eve friends, I am not expecting a little blue envelope tomorrow because this young man is out of the kitchen and into the fire.

But, it’d sure be nice.