Breaking Bread

Our bishop in our ward in New Hampshire, who I love like a father, requested that the bread used for the sacrament be freshly homemade bread. When we first moved there, I thought this requirement was completely ridiculous--mostly, because I was a leader in the young women program and the young women had been asked to bake the bread and so occasionally it would also be my responsibility to bake the bread and I don't bake bread.  My New Hampshire friends would probably also say that part of my problem was that I was from Utah and you know . . . we just didn't do it that way in Utah. They were probably at least partly right.

However, it didn't take very long before I not only appreciated freshly baked bread on Sunday but I loved it. No more squishy, soggy, recently thawed, spent a year in the freezer, grocery store bread. There were some weeks when the homemade bread was so delicious that one small bite wasn't enough and I spent the rest of the meeting wondering if I could get the recipe (or talk the baker into baking me another loaf since I don't bake bread). Fast Sunday could be particularly dangerous. The young women in that ward knew how to bake bread and I learned too when I took my turn.

I know that it doesn't really matter what kind of bread we have during the sacrament. The purpose is to remember our Savior Jesus Christ and renew my covenants and I can and should do that even if the bread is crusty and dry and should probably be fed to the ducks. Even so, the best word to describe the sacrament bread in our former ward was heavenly and that is definitely not a bad thing.