Blindsided

Sometimes things just catch you completely off guard.  This morning was "Friendship Sunday" at our church.  Friendship is  a program that serves the mentally disabled community and at our church we have a very large Friendship program.  The group participated heavily in the service and it was a very uplifting service which I enjoyed thoroughly.

One of the "friends", an African American, invited us to join in on the chorus as she led us in song. With a voice reminiscent of Mahalia Jackson she started singing "His Eye is on the Sparrow".  And that song is what blindsided me.

That's how it happens now ... out of the blue, something small and seemingly insignificant suddenly reminds me of Dad.  I sat there in church listening to the beautiful offering of the song with tears streaming down my cheeks remembering Dad.

I need to clarify that a bit, though.  I don't feel the overwhelming sadness now.  Time really does help to heal that.  It's more like I am reminded how blessed I was (we were) to have a father who loved us unconditionally and a father who loved the Lord so completely.  It kind of felt like tears of thanks for everything Dad was, rather than tears of sadness.

Even though he's not with us anymore, Dad can still indirectly influence me.  The simple act of listening again to one of his favourite songs was a reminder for me.  A reminder of what Dad believed and of what I, too, believe:  that "I am not my own, but belong body and soul to my Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ."  Because of that I live in the comfort that He does "watch over me" and I can "sing because I'm happy."

Thanks, Dad, for having favourites like this song, to keep touching my life.

To Knead or not to Knead

Lately I've been baking our bread.  I'm not really sure why I got on this kick.  Afterall, I'm not usually the one jumping up to go bake!  Anyway, I've been baking our bread since the beginning of the year and I'm getting better at it.  That whole yeast thing is kind of tricky, in my opinion.  It's so easy to kill it before it has a chance to do what it's supposed to.  So I've resorted to using a thermometer and getting the temperature of the water and milk to be in the acceptable range of 105-115F.  Can anyone tell me why the milk needs to be scalded then cooled?  Is it okay to simply warm it up to the appropriate temperature?

At any rate, each batch seems to be a bit easier and a bit better.  Here's my weekend effort ... before and after!

Mom sent me the Dilly Casserole Bread recipe -- now that brought back memories!  It's a bread recipe that you don't have to knead, which is nice when you want to make a specialty bread for a specific meal.

"Let them eat cake"?  No, I say "Let them eat bread"!