Baked twice today
Rosemary rolls in the morning
Two French boules in the afternoon
Sitting at the dinner table the other evening, my 15-year-old son asked to be excused. He had loads of homework and other things to do, but I said no. I just wanted to look across the table and have him there for a while longer. It seems he’s always gone. Either buried under books when he’s here, or … not here.
Right now, he’s not here.
He left yesterday afternoon to help lead a retreat for a local organization. It’s all about loving God, and since that’s one of my main hopes for my children: that they love God, I was willing to send him off, yet again.
I suppose this letting go isn’t meant to be easy. But I won’t let go without a fight. Several rosemary rolls and a long note made their way into my son’s backpack. He loves those rosemary rolls…
The second round of giving, after my son and his friends had embarked on their weekend adventure, went like this…
Hot bread, what should I do?
I’m too tired to walk to the park.
I’m too lazy and unkempt to meet any new neighbors.
I’ll just sit on the front steps till someone walks by, and give the bread to them.
I opened the front door and walked down the path to the steps by the street. Before I even sat down, Sparky came romping across the street (he’s a dog who likes to sit in the front window of his home and peek out the curtains), followed by his owner, Cindy.
Have you eaten? Want some bread? Yes?!
So, tell me. Three children to raise and let go, how does that work mathematically? Thrice the pain and struggle? Are the heaps of joy at watching them grow three times as high and wide? Will I need to knead three times as much bread to keep my hands busy and my heart in prayer?
If you’ve been there, I’m listening!