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say something sweet to you?”
    My nod was my only answer.
    “He has such a soothing voice. I think I would want to go to him for counseling just to hear him say in his calming voice that everything was going to be okay.
    “Now.” Noelle turned her attention to the items she had lined up on the kitchen counter’s limited space. “We were thinking we would make fish tonight with some vegetables and potatoes. How does that sound? Any allergies or food preferences I should know about?”
    “No. What can I do to help?”
    “You can go up to your room, unpack, and relax a little. I’ll call you when dinner is ready. Jelle and I want to make this meal for you. This is what we do. We cook together. In our small kitchen it’s a well-orchestrated event.”
    “So, basically you’re telling me I would be in the way down here.”
    “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
    “Okay, I’ll go upstairs. Call me if you change your mind and I can do something simple like set the table.”
    “Thank you but no. I have all of it taken care of.”
    I climbed the stairs, ducking my head as we both had done earlier to navigate the spiral passageway without stumbling or bumping our heads. After entering the guest room, I closed the door behind me and suddenly felt weighted down. It was as if the gravity in this corner of the world were stronger than it had been when I first arrived. Was this what jet lag felt like?
    It was early in the afternoon at home, but somehow I had missed a night’s sleep as I had jetted through the time zones. Of course I should be tired by now. A short rest was immensely appealing.
    Kicking off my shoes, I stretched out on the bed. One minute on that luxurious, thick comforter and I was transported to theplace where dreams are vivid. I could see floating tulips on the insides of my closed eyelids. Red tulips, like the bouquet on the dining room table downstairs. Red tulips and small ceramic cups with coffee so dark that when the stream of milk was added, it formed a swirling white design on top.
    I have no idea how long it took Noelle to awaken me with her persistent taps on the door. I stumbled to open the door, trying to grasp a memory, any memory, of where I was. When I looked at her, blurry-eyed and blinking, the fragrance of baked fish and roasted potatoes brought the connecting pieces together more quickly than Noelle’s face.
    “I hate to wake you. It will help you adjust to the time if you come eat before going to bed. Really, it will. Are you hungry? Come.”
    “I’ll be down in just a minute.”
    I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so fragmented in mind and body. If my dream on the flight was coming true—if God had picked me up like a toy airplane and directed me like an eager honeybee, and if He had hand-sailed me to this bright peony that adorned the north-turned ear of Europe—then I could very possibly be suffering from having collected too much pollen on my first dive into the bounty.
    I was weighted down and felt as if I could barely move.

B lessedly, the heavy-handed sensation from the jet lag lifted, and what followed that evening was extraordinary. Jelle and Noelle’s hospitality at dinner that first night was beyond anything I had experienced, including all the holidays I had spent with my large and loving extended family.
    Jelle and Noelle didn’t serve over-the-top food, although all of it was very good. What escalated their hospitality was the calmness and kindness that accompanied the meal. I was invited to enter into a relaxed and lingering conversation. Their serenity and acceptance transformed what could have been a very simple meal into a time of fellowship and celebration. They were celebrating me—my visit.
    Considering the mental and physical state I was in when Noelle woke me before dinner, I bounced back rather quickly. Before going downstairs to join them, I splashed my face with cool water, brushed my hair, and returned to the guest room to change