The recipe I knew by heart. The same bowls used every time. Yeast. Water. Honey. Wait till it’s frothing like a rabid horse and dump into flour mixed with salt. No dough hook. No mixer. I even neglected my appointed bread baking wooden spoon. My hands plunged into the dough with all my anxiety. Twisting, turning, kneading, punching.
And it came to me.
Find the wonder.
It’s a sweet word to me like the sweet taste on my tongue when I cracked the bread open, lathered it with butter and put it in my mouth. Wonderful! Like me.
Do you know you are wonderful?
Maybe you need the reminder as much as I do.
Lend a hand, will you?
I’ve got some dough here.
Are you kneading?
I’m needing
to live in Wonder.
Take the Adventure 