I haven’t been so hungry in weeks, I sighed, collapsing on the couch. And that delicious smell of fried onions filling the hallway is not making it any better.

It had been a long day. Our son was finally starting to recuperate after a very bad stomach bug. He had barely managed to keep down a piece of toast the whole day, so we also starved in sympathy with him. I was not going to eat in front of him, and truth be told, I felt too tired and sleep-deprived to care about cooking.

That’s when “Ding!” my phone lit up.

“Do you like spicy food?” It was Louise, our next-door neighbor. Funny enough, we had met her for the first time when she ran out of salt and knocked on our door to borrow some of mine.

“We love spicy food,” I replied. “Why are you asking?”

“I wanted to invite you over tonight. But Ada fell asleep. So I’m bringing the food to you.”

And so she did. Five minutes later, I was almost crying happy tears over a delicious Egyptian dish, topped with spicy tomato sauce and, you guessed it . . . caramelized onions. She also brought a refreshing rice pudding for dessert. While I sat there, still amazed at her thoughtfulness, I was reminded of one little theory I have long believed: That when a child of God needs something, the one that meets that need can be no less than a child of God also. I suddenly thought of the many occasions when Louise acted like a child of God.

Shortly after we moved into the city, she told me to knock on their door anytime for anything we might need. “Even if it’s two in the morning,” she added, with a hand on her heart. She showed me hospitality in a way that I was not used to seeing.

When we spent two sleepless nights in a row because of the loud music of a neighborhood party, I was beyond cranky and kept wishing someone would just call the police. Then Louise confessed that they almost did. “But I know the fine for noise is 300 Lari (about $100), and that can be a lot for some families, so we decided to wait a little bit.”

She showed true compassion, even for the people who kept us awake until six in the morning. At that moment, I wondered if her heart was not somehow bigger than mine.

Louise is a Muslim, married to a Georgian Orthodox. They are both educated people who can speak quite a few languages and overcame more social, religious and cultural barriers than many of us will in a lifetime. As our friendship grew, Louise and I had many soul-to-soul conversations. We now share desserts, playdates, midnight children’s emergencies and evenings on the balcony. She is indeed a child of God and, sometimes, the angel next door.

My only prayer is that I will get to bring her salt when she needs some and that I am ready to be the salt when the time comes. Please join us in prayer for Louise and her precious family!

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