Bread for Tomorrow

Some foodies are posting on social media about a renewed interest in baking bread. In our unique time of sequestering, bread machines are coming back into service, rolling pins are getting a workout and children are learning there are delicious, crusty pre-cursors to packaged bread.

Just think of the simple goodness of a slice of fresh bread with a slather of real butter. For many of us, it’s a journey back to the farm, to Grandma’s kitchen, to a sacred place in time when a slice of homemade bread was a synonym for home; for security; for safety and well being.

There is a slim little paperback titled “Sleeping with Bread”; a book that has sustained and quieted me in good times and in times of uncertainty.

A collaborative work by Dennis Linn, Sheila Fabricant Linn and Matthew Linn, this dog-eared collection offers tasty morsels of wisdom I return to again and again.

The opening page explains what it literally meant, once, to sleep with bread – sometimes, an entire loaf of bread.

During the bombing raids of World War II, thousands of children were orphaned and left to starve. The fortunate ones were rescued and placed in refugee camps where they received food and good care.

But many of these children who had lost so much could not sleep at night. They feared waking up to find themselves once again homeless and without food.

Nothing seemed to reassure them.

Finally, someone hit upon the idea of giving each child a piece of bread to hold at bedtime.

Holding their bread, these children could finally sleep in peace. The bread reminded them, “Today I ate and I will eat again tomorrow.”

What a powerful word picture. A child, cared for but alone in the world, clutching a crust of bread to get through the night.

As we are hopefully nearing an end to our isolation, the symbolic idea of sleeping with bread, seems particularly fitting.

“Today I ate and I will eat again tomorrow.”

There was uncertainty in the day, perhaps pockets of emotional scarcity.

Even so, today took care of itself – tomorrow will be enough, too.

“Enough” becomes a warm-from-the-oven slice, buttered generously with the good stuff.

And yes, it’s plenty.

This blog supports www.booksforbondinghearts.com/shop, timely gifts for all seasons. Please visit the link to see my seasonal books, the "Breath of Joy! series. Breath of Joy! Singing Spring is a favorite this time of year.