Breaking Bread

Monday night I worked the late shift in the bakery, the time when the product for the remainder of the week is getting baked.

While I was removing fruit breads from their pans (one pan makes 3 loaves), one of the breads stuck to the pan, and crumbled out into a million tiny pieces. The supervisor was out at the time, but I left it there so that she would see it and know that the bread was lost.

I went to the back to retrieve a cart to put the surviving breads on, and the super returns. She asks my friend Janet what happened to the bread. "Oh Christina got hungry," she replied with a little giggle. To my surprise she didnt yell at me. Instead when I got back, we, along with the donut guy, gathered around the mountain of bluberry crumbs and munched them and laughed all the while. The donut guy said "Im glad you did this, we should have you dump more often!" The bread was lovely, even though it was quite fragmented.

The super and I are learning to love each other, in some odd way. In the begining I was the shy little freshman that couldnt do anything right, and she was the powertripping super that just wanted to make me cry. That night while everyone was out to dinner we mopped the floor together. and I thought.

This seems so much more like the kind of breaking bread Jesus did. Not some monthly routine in my church. Sue is Christian too, I saw the tattered Bible in her locker, along with the cigarettes at sweatshirts, and she talks of Jesus like she knows what He is about.

sometimes learning to change is our best confession.