Who Knew?

I am on a spiritual retreat and during one of our times of worship, just before communion was shared, a story was told of a group of war orphans who, barely existing because of harsh conditions and little food, were quite naturally having difficulty sleeping.

Their caretakers decided to give them each a loaf of bread to sleep with. Assured of food for the next day the children began to sleep soundly each night.

Our spiritual director shared many possibilities from the story related to the experience of God and suggested that we consider which character resonated with us. Which person we felt identified with our own soul. Did the fear of the children touch us or perhaps the caring act of the orphanage workers? What about those who warred against each other?

My imagination transported me to the village where the bread had been baked. I began to remember the time when the door of my bakery was opened and a fragile, limping, old woman entered interrupting the afternoon coffee that my friends, the miller and the wheat farmer, and I had each day. She was asking for donations of food and I simply gave her some misshapen loaves to take with her.

Who knew that lives would be changed? God knew. Who knew that the grain that was grown and ground and baked would have such a comforting effect on those children? God knew. Who knew that the work of our hands would have such an impact on the lives of those children? God knew. Who knew that misshapen lives and misshapen loaves would be turned into such a sacred event as life? God knew.

God knows that it happens all the time.