Bread

She journeyed 1,000 miles to visit me in the peak of summer when the tomatoes were ripe and full, butter beans popping their hulls, and corn fresh and sweet.  I had learned so much from her as a child –  how to use my hands, how to sew, cook, wash a dish and set a table.  It was a special treat having her for a meal.  And every thought had been given to its preparation – homemade chicken pot pie, fresh cucumber pickle, locally grown tomatoes, butter beans, corn.  I checked the table one last time and then I called her, “Grandmother, dinner is ready.”

She came slowly – her 80 plus years adjusting her pace.  When she was finally situated at the table she took one long look at the feast set before her.  Without hesitating she turned her eyes toward me and said, “Where’s the bread?”
“The bread?”  I responded.  “But, Grandmother there’s crust on the chicken pie and starch in the beans and the corn…”

She cut me off.  And with a steady eye she looked at me and stated, “You always should have bread.”  Bread?  Yes, bread.  I knew that.  How could I have forgotten?  Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” (John 6:35)

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