Opus 2024-234: Sunrise Slathering

I went to dinner with my fellow old folks from the church and we had a good time of fellowship.  I’m usually one of the last ones to get there.  They originally told me 5:30 and I have kept that schedule even when I realized that they arrived earlier.  A habit was establish the first time.

When I came in and we went through the traditional raucous, greeting time, I noticed that there was an aluminum wrapped object on the end of the table where the empty seats were.  I sat down and moved it out of the way, and they informed me that it was for me.  With this group, you can never tell if they’re serious or pulling your leg so we went back-and-forth a few times until I realized that, yes, it was a loaf of sourdough bread that had been prepared by one of the members of the group, and she had given it to me.

The gift in itself was a blessing because it speaks of being accepted as part of the group and being important to them.  That is always a good thing.

It got better the next morning.

I don’t know if you have ever experienced fresh baked bread, hand sliced to your preferred thickness, early in the morning, with butter that has had a chance to soften up to room temperature, slathered on with wild abandon.  Add to that the early morning hour  and being able to look at the kitchen window and see the rose of sunrise on the horizon.

This is a good definition of what blessings are.  We are surrounded by so many modern miracles like air-conditioning, hot and cold running water, dermatologists, and grocery stores full of everything you can imagine, that we tend to forget what a miracle all of these things are historically.  Then you add fresh baked bread and butter that spreads easily, and did I say a toaster?

That is a blessing.  Count them, but don’t bother keeping track because they get very numerous.

homo unius libri