O Lord, recently, I saw a preschooler “help” her father unload items at checkout. The little girl worked diligently, but squished a loaf of bread. I tensed, expecting frowns. Impatience. Yelling. Instead, Daddy thanked her for her help. OMG, that’s so like You. When I offer eager, squishy-bread obedience, You smile.
O Lord, Your Book says You value humility. But when I’m baking bread for company — OMG, is this really the best time for me to learn it?
O Lord, thank You for the unspeakably good smell of baking bread.
Though a visitor might believe I am an upper-crust homemaker, an Earth Mother who mixes and kneads, You and I both know the dough came from a bag!
Still, OMG, that heavenly fragrance helps me realize what You meant when You called Yourself the Bread of Life.
O Lord, reading about Your feeding 5,000 people with a little bread and fish, I’m amazed by Your kindness. Your miracles. Yet, an ordinary mom or grandma probably baked those loaves. OMG, aren’t You glad she didn’t forget and let them rise way too long, unlike … um, some people You know?
