On Monday, the stalks of asparagus arrived, 10 to a bundle, lovingly wrapped in tissue paper and tied with a ribbon.

Seriously, they looked like asparagus in a vase of water on the round table next to my desk.

"Just wait," I said to the scoffers. "It's gonna be a miracle."

The ones for the house spent an extra day in their tissue, sleeping under my desk in a plastic bag while their friends were getting a nice, cool drink.

But the same miracle that occurred overnight in the office occurred at home as well.

The asparagus turned into the most fabulous brilliant yellow daffodils.

And even though I expected it to happen, knew it even, it's still just kind of a miracle when it does.

I now accept the fact that there are people of faith and people with no faith. That's OK, as long as those without let me keep mine.

On Wednesday, Mouse spent the evening helping me make Piorhi, the labor-intensive heirloom recipe that she and Skinny Son grew up on, expect to have and know they will get on Good Friday - every Good Friday.

It goes incredibly more quickly with two than with one, even though she thinks I roll the dough too thick, am not precise in my cutting and stuff messily.

She turned on a movie, "Gridiron Gang," with "The Rock," that I had not seen before. It was really enjoyable to just sit there with her, rolling and cutting and stuffing. We didn't have any deep, meaningful conversation, but she didn't get so annoyed that she left either.

And then it was Friday, and I was at the airport to actually write a story.

My favorite kinds of stories are ones that happen simply because I answer the phone on my desk. I listen, I steal it for myself, I schedule it, tell the boss what I'm up to, and then follow through.

It's the first homecoming from Iraq I've ever covered. I hope it's not my last.

Even though U.S. Army Spc. Theresa Cisneros will be in Iraq until December, it's great to have her home and safe, even if it's just for a week.

I had never met her parents or her before Friday. Turns out I know her uncle because he's kept both of my kids out of serious trouble as the campus supervisor at NCHS.

But that's a pretty random connection.

So there we all were, a large number of extended family members, representatives from various veterans' organizations, Sen. John Barrasso and his wife Bobbi, community supporters and media.

I was really just trying to stay out of the way.

So the hydraulic doors opened, a couple of passengers came through and then there she was, all 5-foot-3 inches of her, in her fatigues and combat boots, dark hair pulled back and up.

And my eyes immediately filled with tears.

Our great photographer Dan Cepeda has been to many of the big group homecoming events. But even he had never been to a single one before.

We all read the paper. We all watch television. We all have opinions, some more private than others, about what's going on overseas.

But seeing that little thing who works in transportation for the 101st Airborne Air Assault Team, making sure infantry have the supplies they desperately need, walk through those doors in her hometown was, like the asparagus and the evening with Mouse, a miracle.

Happy hope-filled Easter.

Reach Community News Editor Sally Ann Shurmur at (307) 266-0520; sallyann.shurmur@trib.com or see her profile and blog at my.trib.com/Sal/blog