Bread of Life

Can I tell you a story about what happened the other day?                                                                    On December 20th a new friend came by with a large bag and handed it to me saying, ‘Merry Christmas’. I opened it and the yeasty fragrance of freshly baked bread wafted into the air. It was a loaf of homemade bread that she made in a bread machine.

“Can I tell you a story?” I asked.

“Sure.” She replied.

“My mom baked bread every week in her bread machine. When someone moved into the neighborhood she took a loaf of homemade bread and welcomed them. Every week she took a fresh loaf to her hairdresser as her ‘tip’. She often baked bread for communion at Circle of Grace. What you don’t know is that today is the second anniversary of my mother’s passing. This loaf of bread must be coming from her through you. It is the most special gift I will receive.”

This is my Christmas story.

8 thoughts on “Bread of Life

  1. Lovely, Connie. I didn’t realize that our mothers both passed away on January 5th. My mother’s death was in 2002. I’m baking bread today. It is always an affirmation of faith for me. My mother baked all our bread when I was growing up. Healthy whole wheat bread. Have you ever read ‘Becoming Bread’ by Gunilla Norris??

    1. My mom passed on December 20th but the sense is still the same. I have read ‘Becoming Bread’. Oh yes, may we all become bread. Mom baked bread every week when I was growing up, too. I miss her terribly. You have inspired me to bake bread in the very near future. thanks, Susan!

  2. I can’t see fresh bread without thinking of Barbara, and whenever I eat it, I always feel for the center hole that was in each slice.

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