On Saturdays I usually volunteer in the church kitchen.
Yesterday, I was asked to slice up the tiny cubes for the communion bread.
I found it ironic that the girl who got in trouble years ago with the nuns for spitting out her communion wafer just to "see what the pattern on it looked like" was now cutting communion bread.
Jesus forgave me.
I'm not sure the nuns ever did.
Point of clarification...
This was back in the days before you were allowed to touch the host - and the wafers had a flat smooth side and a textured bumpy side which bothered this inquisitive 8 year old.
(For the record, it was a pair of hands holding a chalice, if I remember correctly.)
Cut to THIS morning.
Nothing like a 7:30 am call from church...
Asking where I hid the body of Christ.
Last night someone picked up the bags of bread cubes from me,
(a) she didn't put last night's remainder where they usually do
(b) they handed out more communion than usual last night
(c) this morning's person just didn't think last night's person picked up this morning's batch...
If I was more awake...and...
If I didn't think the kitchen was already defrosting and cutting more bread and likely falling behind with the breakfast prep...
I would have cracked wise with:
"What? You've never heard of risen bread?"
"No worries. Did He leave the ziploc bags behind this time?"
"Did you check behind the stone?
"Never mind the bread...Have you checked for missing bottles of wine?"
Wonder if this Thanksgiving I will be allowed to carve the turkey?
After all, I've already been entrusted with the Lamb of God.
NOT... that I'm equating Jesus with a turkey.
Yes...for the record...I need a bigger bread cube than most. ;)