Bread was something I was not suspecting upon arrival in Laos.
Certainly not white bread, a flavor I disdain back in the States. But here.
Freshly baked. Soft and moist and so light it practically dissolves on your
tongue. Almost sacred. Like the sacraments. Precious and delicious and rare.
Handmade to nourish both the consumer and the hands that knead it. At the
little fair trade bakery cum skills centre cum language training facility. Lao
Vida. Vida. Life. My team leader mentioned how bread brought her closer to
understanding Christ. The myriad ingredients, the kneading/suffering, baking in
the blazing oven and being resurrected from its former state as a flat lump of
dough to a risen golden loaf, nourishing the body and yet delicious to the
tongue just as life in Christ is satisfying and also filled with joy as we
delight ourselves in Him.
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