Tag: Bread

Thoughts on Baking Bread

Published on by Marilyn14 Comments

As the fall moves in and leaves change their colors, trading the dark green of late summer for the orange, red, and gold of Autumn, I begin to bake bread.

I begin to break bread when twilight comes quickly and a chill is ever-present in the air. I begin to break bread when the dark of winter is not yet upon us and the glow of Autumn shines through orange candles.

Making bread is often better therapy than a counseling session.

I think about baking bread on my way home from work as I watch the sun setting too early and feel the crisp air that will soon usher in winter.

I think about setting the oven at 350 degrees as I start the yeast rising. I think about the ingredients: wheat flour, white flour, oats, yeast, oil, sugar, salt. So simple–yet yielding so much.

I mix up the oats, sugar, salt, whole wheat flour, and oil. I add boiling hot water.

I wait and then add yeast and the rest of the flour.

And then I take the slightly sticky dough and I knead. I knead and I pray.

I start global and I go local. I pray for Egypt and Pakistan, for peace, for mercy. I pray for the chasm of misunderstanding between East and West. I pray for Syria, that a miracle will happen. I pray for my family, that my children will know the joy of baking bread, of creating, of loving, of forgiveness and forgiving. I pray for my parents – thank God for them and what they have passed to me.

And then I pray that I will forgive more and judge less, that I will find my strength and security in the One who is the bread of life,

I pound harder on the bread when I’m upset, when I feel hurt or anger rise to my eyes and heart. I concentrate deeply as I think about life in all its hard and all its good.  And as I do the bread becomes smoother under my hands.

This time in the kitchen, baking bread? It is holy time, holy work.

I set the bread to rise and I thank God for bread and for life.

bread

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When a Piece of Bread is not a Piece of Bread –

Published on by Marilyn9 Comments

In 2008 HSBC Bank unrolled a brilliant advertising campaign. Called “Different Values”, the campaign showed three pictures side by side.

Sometimes it was three identical pictures with a different word across each picture:

oriental-rug

Other times it was three different pictures with the same word across each picture:

HSBC_accomplishment

The point of their campaign was that we all have different values. The head of marketing at the time, Tracy Britton, said “HSBC’s global footprint gives us the insight and the opportunity not only to be comfortable, but confident in helping people with different values achieve what’s really important to them.” Ideally people would choose HSBC to achieve “what was really important to them”.

Prescribing different meanings to words or having different concepts of the same item is a huge piece of miscommunication. If I think of a Persian carpet as decor, and my Muslim friend sees it as a sacred space for prayer, then there is possibility for offense when she sees it in my front hallway, subject to all the traffic – shoes, dirt, clutter – that comes with a busy household.

A couple of years ago I heard a story that perfectly illustrates this confusion in communication.

A nurse who is a diabetic educator was working with a woman from Brazil who had diabetes. We’ll call her Fernanda. Fernanda was doing well at understanding the need for recording blood sugars during the day, taking insulin based on those blood sugars, and keeping a food journal. At regularly scheduled times she would come to the diabetic educator for review of her journals and further diabetic teaching. Those appointments generally took place early morning.

One day the appointment was a bit later. When Fernanda got to the office the nurse chatted with her, and, as was customary, did a finger stick to check her blood sugar. At a number of 300, the blood sugar was off the charts high. They both looked at each other in alarm. Fernanda’s blood sugars had been consistently in the high 100’s or low 200’s. This was clearly a change.

The nurse began to question her — Did you do anything differently? What did you eat last night? Did you eat anything this morning?

Yes she had eaten something this morning but it was only a piece of bread.

Did the bread have anything on it? Was there honey on it? Sweet jam? Was it just one piece? The questions tumbled over each other. She was determined to get to the root of this extraordinarily high blood sugar.

Yes – there was something shiny on the bread and the bread was thick.

Did you eat it at home?

No – she had bought it at the cafeteria in the hospital.

The nurse’s eyes lit up. “Let’s go to the cafeteria and you can show me what you ate!” she said.

So they went on a field trip. All the breads were lined up on the far right side of the cafeteria. They walked over to the breads and stood before them. In true American style of ‘plenty’ there was a vast array of breads before them.

Had she eaten the white or wheat breads? No. Next in line were the English muffins, both whole wheat and white. No, not those either. Sweet breads? No. 

And then they got to the thick, sweet, gooey, yummy, cinnamon rolls.

“That’s it! That’s what I ate! That’s the bread I had!” The nurse began to laugh and shake her head. It made complete sense that a 4 inch diameter, thick, sugar-filled cinnamon roll would send the woman’s blood sugar soaring.

When is a piece of bread not a piece of bread?

I love this story for many reasons but here are a couple of them: First – as a nurse it’s a reminder to me to dig deeper, especially when working with someone from a culture that is different from mine. Second – it’s a great lesson on cross-cultural communication. I might see cinnamon rolls – but you see bread.

What are your stories of miscommunication around words and phrases? I would love to hear them through the comments!

Related articles – In the spirit of the article I thought I’d post a recipe!

Abigail’s Bread

Published on by Marilyn19 Comments

Breads and bread rolls at a bakery

I knew there had been offense. I had said things. I had done things. And I was sorry. I was so sorry – for the hurt, for my mouth running away without consulting my brain, for my meanness, born out of my pain. The person had done nothing to warrant my rage. They just happened to be the one present when I lost it.

“Against you and you only have I sinned and done what is wrong in your sight” The words of Psalm 51 echoed in my head. “Against against against you you you only only only” – as though I was yelling across a mountain, the valley between. The realization echoed as well – I had sinned against God – and I had also wronged another.

I needed Abigail’s bread.

The story of Abigail’s bread is from the Old Testament. Abigail was first the wife of Nabal, a mean and surly man we are told.  She was intelligent and beautiful and when she saw there had been an offense toward a group of men, she acted. She prepared bread, wine, sheep, grain, figs, raisins – a regular feast, and she set off to make it right. She didn’t know how she would be received but compelled to go, she went in faith.

So I baked bread and set off. Nervous, stomach aching, heart pounding, not sure how I would be received. But there had been offense and I needed to make it right. I didn’t have the wine or the sheep, the figs or the raisins, but I had bread.

And God graciously softened the heart of the offended and the bread was accepted.

This story in the Old Testament is amazing. It is a story of a strong woman, a smart woman, and a woman who loved God. She would not be paralyzed by offense; she would act.

I have witnessed much offense in the last few days. Not in person but over the internet and I wish that I could intervene. Through the medium of comments, people’s mouths have not been connected to their brains and there is hurt. I desperately want to bake bread and intervene.

And so this blog post – this is my offering; my “Abigail’s Bread”. In life there is a lot of offense. I offend, and I am offended. But knowing there is bread, both Abigail’s and the body of the One who died for offense is hope indeed. Today may you both give and taste Abigail’s bread; bread that offers pardon and hope.

18 Abigail acted quickly. She took two hundred loaves of bread, two skins of wine, five dressed sheep, five seahs of roasted grain, a hundred cakes of raisins and two hundred cakes of pressed figs, and loaded them on donkeys. 19 Then she told her servants, “Go on ahead; I’ll follow you.” But she did not tell her husband Nabal…..23 When Abigail saw David, she quickly got off her donkey and bowed down before David with her face to the ground. 24 She fell at his feet and said: “Pardon your servant, my lord, and let me speak to you; hear what your servant has to say……27 And let this gift, which your servant has brought to my lord, be given to the men who follow you.28 “Please forgive your servant’s presumption…..32 David said to Abigail, “Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, who has sent you today to meet me. 33 May you be blessed for your good judgment and for keeping me from bloodshed this day and from avenging myself with my own hands.”….35 Then David accepted from her hand what she had brought him and said, “Go home in peace. I have heard your words and granted your request.” (excerpts from 1 Samuel 25 New International Version)