Every time Cindy would invite us to her house for dinner she would emphasize “homemade taste”. Who would turn down an opportunity to experience authentic Chinese culture to the extreme.
So there we were (Jen, Kayla, Stephanie and I) outside this cute little apartment with hearts full of a sense of urgency and anticipation of what was going to happen.
The strong aroma washed over us already as we crossed the threshold. Preparations had been started already.
Let me introduce a few essential people to you:
Mama: Cindy’s mother who doesn’t speak any English
Kevin: Cindy’s husband, a doctor, who speaks some English but is not very confident in it.
Steven: Cindy and Kevin’s four year old son who is spoiled and a little stinker but too cute.
Ok, now back to the story.
Mama bustled around the kitchen getting everything prepared for us to help prepare. The little chef in me couldn’t wait to get started.
I jumped at the opportunity when Cindy welcomed us into the kitchen.
Putting some flour on my fingers I jumped right into helping making tiny towers of dumpling dough and then smashing the tower flat. Step one of the final process of putting the actual dumplings together had begun.
Suddenly I was a young girl back in my grandmas kitchen. Speaking the silent language of kitchen talk without saying much. Bonding over the process not just the final product.
White flour is everywhere. A bowl full of ground pork and cabbage. Dough waiting to be pressed and kneaded.
Mama taught me the tricks to rolling, pinching, pressing, flattening, filling and pinching closed the dumplings. But the steps of the process don’t truly matter because it isn’t about the destination as much as it is about the journey/experience.
Mama taught me that day what love without language truly felt like.
Love without Words.
Have you ever experienced love without words?
What about the Love of God without words?
Still yourself today and just soak in Gods Love.
