Worship
This morning, I did not go to church. Brad was busy with a church work project (yes, on a Sunday... long-ish story), and I decided to stay home since he had my car and the truck is lacking a bit in the AC department. Lame excuse, I know. Instead, I walked Jasmine, leisurely. I made a menu for the week and got groceries. I tackled the pile of laundry. Then I found myself in the kitchen. I made cinnamon rolls. And somehow, that act of baking became an act of grateful worship. As I measured and melted and mixed, I thought gratefully of all that had to come together in order for me to bake - the flour, sugar, butter, eggs, milk, yeast, and salt. Later the cinnamon, sugar, and brown sugar... Seemingly simple, yet a complex coming together. As I measured and melted and mixed, I thought of my mother and grandmothers, who I had watched do the same, so many times, thankful for their example of love and caring. As I methodically kneaded, I thought of my family: Sarah and Jamie and m...