Chip and Heather Standish were expecting Baby #3, and we thought maybe they could use a few new things, so we planned a little baby shower on September 28. It would be mostly an extended coffee break with some homemade breads and rolls (`a la Alex), and it would be good warm fellowship. No stupid games.

      At church, donations toward providing a new baby safety seat for the car came in like a healthy stream. But commitments to the shower itself -- how many ladies would actually make time in their busy Saturday morning to come sit with Heather, have coffee and laugh about things husbands and fathers cannot understand? I hoped for six. "Please, Jesus, send us six, and I promise to be grateful." And I set the table accordingly.

      Oh, me of little faith.

          Shower Day dawned mild and colorful for early fall. Alex had baked his buns off the day before, producing two long braided loaves of Maple Bread (with his real Maple Syrup), three pans of cinnamon-raisin rolls and his knock-out pineapple-coconut sweet bread butterfly. As I mixed up a good measure of white frosting, I estimated we were preparing at least three times what six women could eat.

      At 9:50am, the cars began arriving. They came in like it was a deliberate march to a common destination. They filled our three driveways. We scrambled for chairs, coffee cups and places to put purses.

      Eighteen. Jesus sent us eighteen ladies.
God is so good. -- all the time.

P.S. The rolls? We had two left over.