Resurrection Bread



What is that one thing that just makes a place feel like home?

For me it's fresh baked bread.


One of my favourite memories growing up was coming into the house to smell the fresh delicious read my mom or sisters had made. And no matter what they put in it, it was always delicious.


My mom used to make what she called "Resurrection Bread," where she would take all the nasty, old, yoghurt, stale bread, soured milk and all the things we thought were inedible and make the most delicious, soft bread you've ever had. Mama would say that it was kinda like when Jesus came to take all the nasty broken things in our life that cause us pain and he would make something wonderful out of them if we just let him.

This analogy has always stuck with me, and I am learning to let beauty come from brokeness. I have to remember that mosaics, which are made from broken pieces, can be masterpieces.

Let yourself be broken sometimes. This time of year can be very hard to feel whole. Let yourself sit with the pain and the grief and the anger until you can hold it and help mold it into something beautiful.


We are all a little broken, but dearest, we were never meant to stay that way. And even after we start becoming whole again, it doesn't mean that we aren't ever reminded of the broken and nasty things in our life.


Instead of looking at the sour cream and curdled milk in my fridge and seeing trash, I can see potential. The same is true with ourselves. Bent and Broken does not mean worthless. You are this beautiful thing called "human" that lets you be flexible and re-discover yourself over and over as many times as you need to. You are here with purpose.

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