When Jack was 6 weeks old, we found out he was dairy and soy protein intolerant. They said it was possible he would "outgrow" this by the age of 3. Well, he didn't. I have learned many ways to work around his intolerance and still include cheese in our dinners. Bread, however, is very hard to find without dairy or soy, so I make our bread. I make 2 loaves at a time and it lasts almost a week. I have a bread machine and it is good in a pinch, but I really do enjoy making bread by hand. I feel a closeness to Mary as a knead the dough. I imagine her making bread for the Holy Family. I picture her working with the dough on a wooden board made by Joseph. I picture Jesus underfoot, playing contentedly. It is such a peaceful scene to ponder while my hands work the dough into a smooth, elastic ball. The house fills with such a wonderful aroma while the bread is baking, and everything seems cozy and right.
Once there was a store in Georgia. It is no more, but how I wish it was. I likened going in there to treasure hunting. One never knew what was going to be in there, and you had to dig through and wade through all the "other people's treasures" to find your own. I once found a set of blue and white teacups and saucers from England. I found lace handkerchiefs, a rocking chair, and an end table. But by far the best find was my kitchen table. I had stopped by one day while the kids were taking horseback lessons and the then little ones were asleep. The store was not open, but I went up to the window to see if anything new was there. And it was there. The table. And six chairs too! We were in need of a bigger table with Jack on the way. My mom had offered to give us her old one, which I was going to accept if I didn't find something I liked better. I didn't want anyone else to even see the table because I knew it was supposed to be ours, but one can never tell abo...
mmmmmm, I can almost smell it too. beautiful reflection.
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