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No, the title isn’t sarcastic. I am quite serious in praising God for the arrival of new dairy in my neighborhood. To what am I referring? Two nights ago I went to the market downstairs to pick up some potatoes. As I waited in line to pay for these taters, my eyes lazily surveyed the small market. I noticed that they had changed the egg display. I saw that they were offering a wider bread selection. And then, my eyes saw a tiny jug with a red cap. That’s right. Our market now sells good milk. Not boxed and kept warm until opened, not radiated, not foul aftertaste-milk. Now we have the real deal pasteurized milk! I ran over to pick up a few jugs. They certainly are tiny… one jug is two small glasses of milk. And, it costs 3 times as much as the boxed stuff. And yet, I don’t care. I shall blow our monthly budget on good milk. We may have to go vegetarian and quit eating anything but rice, beans, and tomatoes, but we shall have good milk.

I walked out of the store and triumphantly presented the jug to my hub. He responded with a hug. Then, we did a celebratory dance in the street, which garnered much attention from our neighbors and local shopkeepers. It was akin to the dancing David did outside the gates of Jerusalem. Except it wasn’t quite as holy or significant of an affair. And, we didn’t strip our linen tunics off.

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