Hannah's Birthday

Last week Wolfe had a play date with his friend Hannah. Hannah's mom, Labovo Wonhola is really sweet, and their house is one of the closest to teacher housing, so I love it whenever they ask Wolfe over to play. As Lobova drops him off, she mentions that Hannah's birthday is Monday and that she will see me then. I nod and smile and wonder what this statement means. Should I stop over with a gift Monday? Bring over some cookies? Will there be a party? Come Monday, I've already forgotten until I'm about to head out the door for a run. Lobova calls me on the phone.
"You can come now. We are waiting on you and one other person."
Wait, what? I stammer, but try hard no to sound irritated:
"You're having a party now? I didn't know. Could we come in an hour?" I needed to get the kids ready, I didn't have a gift; and personally I dislike anything that cuts into my afternoon exercise routine. I could run and then go, right?
"Come now. Bring Wolfgang, Ben and Ruby. We will wait for you to eat," she replied.
All four of us arrived five minutes later, with Father right behind us (I was grateful it was the town's spiritual leader who was later that my family.)
There I was in my running tights with no gift, and the only one not excited to go to a birthday party. That quickly changed; I realized that the thirty or more guest squeezed into that tiny house were all related and we, although not family, were welcomed like family. I, being pregnant, was made to be one of the first in the food line. Adults gave Wolfe hugs and squeezes and offered more Kooaid his immune system could handle. The older crowd laughs when Ruby sticks her finger in the expensive cake to get a good frosting lick.
I enjoyed experiencing how they celebrate too. Right before Hannah blew out the candles, Father lead us in chanting the Lord's prayer, then another prayer and then the happy birthday song. People would then sit and eat a plate a food, wrap another plateful up in tinfoil and head home. The party was short, but with good conversation and lots of laughter. Babies were been held and passed so that I didn't know who belonged to who.  Father blessed the little ones and others rejoiced over Hannah's fourth year by giving her verbal blessings rather than wrapped gifts.
We left wishing to have more experiences like that. And I promised myself  to not let routine guide my life too much. What if I did run instead of going to the Wonhola's? We all would've missed out on a Alaska style party and I would've had the same run like I do almost every other day.  I'm still learning, but at least I'm passing this lesson onto you:
If you come to bush Alaska, expect some Slavic spontaneity from the natives; at it's highest form of love.