Happy Birthday to MERCY SZOBODY!

I should now very much like to take a moment to publicly recognize all the things I love about my friend Mercy (or "Misou" en français) Szobody (pronounced something like Zuh-bode-ee), a rare and beautiful blossom, who on this day turns 19 years-old. Unfortunately, there are just so many things I appreciate and admire and love about this girl that one simple post shall not suffice to cover them all, but it's something at least.

She is a living, breathing Rapunzel with golden hair that streams down her back in a luscious abundance. She has a lilting voice so pure and so strong and so clear that I could listen to it for days on end and never tire of hearing it. Good thing, too, because I sure do hear it for days on end.

This girl spent most of her childhood in Chad as a missionary kid, although the first three years of her life were in the States and when she was three she lived here in Albertville for a year and when she was in her teens she lived in the North of France for thee years (I believe, although it's taken me quite a bit to get her whole history sorted-out) and when she was 14, she spent a year in the states traveling around with her family in a trailer to 40+ states. She is a fascinating blend of a great many cultures.

She grew up in a family of, count them now, not one, not two, not five, not ten, but twelve children. Yes, twelve. Three girls and the rest boys. She is the youngest girl with four brothers after her. Her family is so large and now so spread out all over the world, that only for two occasions has the whole Szobody family actually been all assembled in the same place.

She's seen The Lord of the Rings, extended version, not once, not twice, but a whopping TWENTY-ONE TIMES. This in and of itself makes her highly esteemed in my eyes.

They speak French in Chad, and she is fluent in the language with an immaculate accent and a beautiful way of expressing herself. She also knows a bit of Arabic, another language spoken in Chad, and because of her, I now know how to say goodnight in Arabic which directly translated means something like, "Until the sun's next rise".

She is an accomplished woman of many talents. Watching her in the kitchen astounds me as she makes lasagna from scratch without a recipe. And when I say from scratch, I mean from scratch. She rolls out the dough for the noodles while the tomato sauce (smelling approximately 10 times more heavenly than canned tomato sauce) simmers in the pot. Oh and the cheese, too. Yeah, she can make that stuff from scratch as well. No recipe. C'est incroyable. She crochets the most beautiful, intricate, lace patterns. When you walk into the kitchen and see someone warming up the deep red, purple syrup of a hibiscus flower, it could only be one person: Mercy. She plays the harp and she's really good at playing it. When she reads that, she will forcefully disagree with that statement, proving to me her humility which makes it even more wonderful to behold. Each time I hear the melodies floating down the hallway, I can tangibly feel myself relaxing in the beauty of the notes. The calligraphy she does puts mine to shame, so full of flourishes and grace it is.

I've met few people who I can actually sit down and have a well-fueled conversation that goes on for hours on end without stopping. Mercy is one of those people, and we have more than once stayed up until the most horrendous hours of the night, deep in conversation, topics ranging from family to God to philosophy to politics to literature to the best way to raise kids to every single topic under the sun. I shall never forget how appalled I was when, after starting a conversation at about 10:30 PM on a school night, I looked at the clock to realize it was 2:15 AM. Utterly ridiculous, but so worth every minute.

She has an absurd sense of humor that finds it absolutely hilarious to jump out of dark corners and scare the living daylights out of me. In retrospect, perhaps it is a bit funny. A teeny tiny little bit. Especially when I scream so loud that I scare the living daylights out of her.

I've slept in her room before on account of our adventures into haunted houses. She's the kind of person whose room I could just pull my mattress right on into any night pas de problème. A good friend to have in a foreign country. She listens to my stories, she seeks me out, and she knows just how to make someone feel special.

I am so thankful for this girl. I never would've guessed that God would have a friendship with a girl like her in store for me here, but God is good, and he did, and I will be forever grateful.

P.S. So sorry your coffee cake this morning turned out to be a slight debacle. I'm relieved it still tasted good even if it started a fire in the oven and looked like a pile of mud gone wrong.