Sunday, August 12, 2012

SUZI: A Flour Connection

My dad used to make his own bread.  He would make two loaves every week that would last them until he made the next batch.  He experimented with several different kinds and had a variety of flours in his stash.  My mom recently passed along some half-used bags of various flours that had been a part of his weekly ritual.  There was some whole grain rye that I wanted to work in to my normal recipe, but I have to admit that it took me a while to actually open the bag.  It sat in my pantry for several weeks, but one day I decided it was time to start using it.

I opened the bag, and with measuring cup in hand, I plunged into the rye flour.  As I did, my fingers felt the course texture of the flour, and I realized I was touching the very flour that my dad’s hand had touched almost three years before.  It suddenly felt as if I had put my hand right into my dad’s.  I stood frozen at that counter with my hand half covered with flour, not able to move from my spot.  And, I couldn’t see anything through the tears streaming from my eyes.

Almost three years later, I still think about him every day.  Some days it is still hard for me to comprehend that my dad is gone.  My heart aches that Cooper won’t know him and that he never even got a glimpse of our sweet little boy.

These are the gut-wrenching difficult things of life.  The things that nothing but the sweet presence of the Lord can make better.  It just stinks, people.  It just stinks.

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