Making bread . . .

There is something about making bread.  All these little things happening at once to create something warm and comfortable.  The warm water, sugar, egg, oil, yeast and flour.   They each have a task in creation of the bread.  The house gets all warm and cozy, because you can't make bread in cold air, it won't rise.  Getting your hands into the dough, that sticky sweetness that just smells so good.  Watching the yeast work and seeing it growing out of the bowl.  The anticipation of what's to come.  Comfort food at it's best.

I can remember my mom telling me a story about her mom, my grandma Louise.  My mom just turned 60, she'd probably hit me for telling that.  She spent some growing up years on farm in the middle of Saskatchewan, where your place of birth was written as regional latitudes and longitudes.   Her mom would bake bread all year long, several times a week for their family that ended up being 11 kids and two parents.

When her mom was pregnant with a younger brother, at least 50 years ago, her dad had to ride to the nearest town to get a doctor.  Her mom was in the middle of making bread and she started into labour.  She kept at the break making, a task that need to be done.  Halfway through all her processes she went and laid down and had my uncle.  Cleaned herself up, set uncle on the bed all cleaned up, and finished baking her bread.  Wow, and wower!  My grandma, an amazing woman.  In my somewhat spoiled life, it would never occur to me that this could even be possible.  And yet it was and still is in some countries of the world.  She had a task to do, it needed to be completed, and she did it.  At suppertime that night there was fresh bread and a new baby.  And, I'm going to wager, a very tired mommy.

So when I take down the flour and yeast and sugar and salt, and get out the eggs and oil, and run the warm water, I think of my grandma.   Both of them actually.  Amazing women, who had jobs to do and did them, very well.  And I have the belief that they are both in heaven hanging out with each telling stories about their kids, grand-kids, and great grand-kids.

I am grateful that I was blessed with two very amazing women who are wondrous examples for me of what it means to be truly godly women.