God Bless The Home Teachers

Indeed. Bless them. Especially if they come bearing a plate of warm brownies.
Let me explain a bit, for those of you reading who are not the same religion as me. (I know you're out there, and I love you. I love all readers of my blog no matter your race, religion, creed, pant size, or olive preference. My olive preference is 'No thanks.' Funny, that's sometimes my pant size as well.) In my church, the men are assigned a teaching partner of sorts and given a list of 3 or 4 families that they are to visit, together, every month. Some of the families actively come to church every week, some only come occasionally, some never come. They visit with the famlies for a little bit, share a spiritual message, and see if there's anything that they and/or the other members in the area can help them with. The bottom line is, it's a fantastic way to make sure the needs of the church members are met on a monthly basis, especially for the ones that we don't see very often. Does this make sense? Readers who are LDS, did I 'splain this alright?
With today being not only the last Sunday of the month, but also the last day, there will probably be a lot of home teaching being done around the world.
I love my home teachers. One of them lives in the same complex as me so it's easy for us to jump back and forth with questions like 'Can we borrow some jumper cables?', 'Can you watch Andrew?', and 'What's the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?' Things like that. You know? Anyways, John and his son Andrew (who is adorable and was wearing a red cape) came by to say hi and drop off a plate of brownies. We chatted for a bit about this and that and the longer I chatted with John, the more I realized this wasn't just any plate of brownies. It was a WARM plate of brownies. Chocolate brownies people. Warm chocolate brownies. In my hand. (Probably not possible unless you are within a 1 minute walking distance of your home teacher) I thanked them, closed the door and then my eyes and smelled the sweet smell of something that smells sweet. I took one final look at the one on top because I knew it wouldn't be seeing the light of day much longer. What is amazing to me is that John was so in tune to the Spirit to know that my sweet tooth was craving something but nothing looked good except for the plate of cookies that I baked for Aleece's birthday and really if he had not stopped by when he did then I might have lost a very dear friend because she knows those cookies are coming. I should mention here that Mike is currently out doing his home teaching. (Now before you go judging my husband for leaving his home teaching until the last day of the month, you should know that he and his companion went out last Sunday and they weren't able to get the family that they're seeing today so...I don't know where I'm going with this. Moving on) Mike is not aware of the plate of warm, chocolate brownies that is sitting on the table. This is a dangerous situation.
This is what the dangerous situation looks like:

Actually, that one on the top in the back isn't there anymore... People they have chunks of chocolate in them! Chunks that are crunchy on the outside, but when bitten into, melt deliciously in your mouth! WARM CHOCOLATE BROWNIES PEOPLE!!!!

The icing on the cake (or brownies, as it were) is that the local, listener supported radio station that plays elevator music during the week (Mostly songs I grew up on, so I love them, in their own cheesy, special, elevatory way. You know, instrumental versions of Neil Diamond, The Carpenters, Ed Ames, jazzed up versions of all the James Bond movie songs. Things like that.) plays standards for a good 5 hours on Sunday afternoons. I'm a sucker for Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and those sorts of songs that mob bosses would've listened to back in the day or that soldiers might have danced to during World War II.

The brownies and I, we will listen and enjoy and wait for Mike to come home when it is no longer a warm plate of chocolate brownies, but just a plate of chocolate brownies.