Bread

Once upon a time there were four groups of people:

1. Those who made their own whole wheat bread
2. Those who made their own white bread
3. Those who bought whole wheat bread
4. Those who bought white bread

(This makes a really nice matrix if you want to put it on a chalkboard.)

Because it's really hard work to make your own bread, those who made their own bread formed a support group. As long as they were discussing where to buy pans and which ovens worked best, and how much yeast they used and how long they baked the bread, and even how terribly sad it is that some people buy bread, they were happy.

Now, all the studies show that the people who make their own whole wheat bread live longest. It's the right thing to do. God tells us to take care of our bodies, after all – you could even say our bodies are the temple of God.

One day, several of the group started discussing a recipe that included white flour.  So some of those who make their own whole wheat bread decided they needed to encourage the whole homemaking group to a higher standard.

"Wait a minute!" cried the white bread makers. "It's what we can afford! It's way better than store-bought – no preservatives! We add in wheat germ, and flax seed! It's easier to make into the shapes that are important to OUR family! Besides, we use freshly-ground almond butter on ours, and you're using margarine, and we know margarine is dreadful for the body! How dare you judge? I thought we were here to support each other."

"How dare you judge us for judging you?" the first group cried back. "We are working so hard to provide only the best for our own families. We want only the best for you, too! And we need a little support of our own. I think we should change this support group into one that is specifically for people who make whole wheat bread. Everyone else is welcome, as long as they don't object to our standards or bring up white flour at all."

Some people who were just learning how to make bread gave up – because it was too much work to get it right.  And they didn't like all the judging and fighting.

And those who made their bread using part wheat and part white wondered what the first group thought of them.

And those who bought bread mix and baked it at home wondered where they fit in.

Those who bought rye bread because of wheat allergies (and because rye bread is REALLY hard to make at home) thankfully had no clue all this was going on.

We're not even going to mention those poor souls who bought white bread. Because we don't know their story at all. We don't know if they filled it with avocado and sprouts and made sure they take a multivitamin every day.

(Did I mention the government subsidized white flour in its evil quest to shorten our lives, so it's cheaper than whole wheat?)

And the little group who made their own whole wheat bread? Well, some of them used a bread machine. Some of them used a bread mixer. Some of them milled their own flour. The ones who grew their own wheat? Well, everyone knows organic is best, local is even better, and hard work is good for the body and soul. So they decided to encourage their little group to a higher standard.

Not too far away, there were people with no bread. They starved while the little group worked out its standards.

Jesus said, "Feed my sheep."

The End.

Kiwi

“I don’t like kiwi!”

This said by three-year-old as she cried in protest at my cruel and unusual punishment…

I’ve been pretty lax on the healthy-eating principles with my child – I’ve always wanted food and eating to be a non-issue for her.  God knows it’s been a huge issue for me.

My past MO has been to put a plate of colorful, relatively healthy options in front of her and let her have at it.  No stress over what she does or doesn’t eat.

The result?  A carb-lover extraordinaire.  She hates almost all fruits and veggies.  She’ll occasionally eat a few bites of apples, grapes, watermelon, or a bite of banana, but that’s about it for fruit.  And on the veggie side, it’s occasionally carrots, broccoli, corn, and cucumber.  No interest whatsoever in anything else.

Enough is enough already!  I decided it’s time to start the courtesy-bite concept – try at least one bite of everything on your plate.  It can be a small bite, and you don’t have to eat anything more if you don’t like it, I say.

Enter the kiwi.  Which, by the way, had been approved by three-year-old as a grocery cart addition at Costco.  I try to go through her approval process as much as possible while shopping to avoid future battles…

But this kiwi just did not cut it.  The two little chunks on her plate had her running the other direction.

I stuck one chunk on her fork.  Come on, eat it!  Get it over with!  Then we can play and do fun activities.

NO!  Tears and sobs commence.

Time out, then – let’s go!  More tears and sobs.

Why do I have to eat it?

Because it’s good for you. you need to learn to try new things, you need to be polite and eat a tiny bit, and you need to eat HEALTHY food.  Lots of reasons.

I DON’T LIKE IT!

We battle for more than two hours.  I think of all the fun things I had planned for the day.  I actually had all the activities lined up and ready to go this time.

PLEASE, I plead, just take a bite!  It’s just a little thing!  Once you’ve finished, we can have fun!

FINALLY, we negotiate.  I cut one of the little chunks into thirds, and she eats one third.  No more tears!  All is forgotten!

Why do I ask God for the opportunity to do big things, and balk at the little things? 

Why?

Time

Is 20 minutes of time worth $50?

I locked the keys the car while stepping out to the ATM yesterday. Husband was out of cell phone range, so my only recourse was to call the locksmith. And wait 20 minutes.

I had just been thinking about how my To Do list isn't necessarily God's plan for me - so now was the time to put things to the test.

I grabbed a blended mocha from Dutch Brothers - a treat I haven't afforded in ages. Then I sat on the car bumper, doing a little surreptitious people-watching (trying not to look like I was casing the people visiting the ATM).

OK, God - what do You have planned for me here?

Is there someone You have destined me to meet here? Someone I can speak to on Your behalf?

Nope - nobody special showed up. Nothing profound happened.

$50 was an expensive price to pay - for a moment of absent-mindedness on my part.

But I DID get something out of it. TWENTY minutes of time. With nothing pressing - no list of things I SHOULD be doing - because I COULDN'T do anything - except wait.

I looked at is as a gift, and that made all the difference.