Thankful for bread...

This morning has been busy. I made baby food.


Don't laugh - my oven door would barely close on the three casseroles crammed in there, my biggest pot simmered on the element and the crock pot was also pressed into service. Not to mention the sheet of rusks that dried out after the casseroles were done.
I prepared, cooked, cooled, whizzed and froze enough food to last for what I hope is a reasonably long time. And then I felt sorry for my big girls and so made them a batch of Magic Slice.

The process of chopping my veggies and flaking the chicken and fish made me feel priviledged to be able to care for my children in this way. We have good healthy food.

Each time I ran fresh clean water over my dirty cookware, I was reminded of those who have no water to drink, let alone squirt over pots and bowls. As my dishwasher swished I thought of those who rub ash or sand over their meagre plates to clean them. And I thought as I sliced bread for baby rusks, about the desperate humanity in the ruined country of my past, Zimbabwe, whose lives hang in the balance as history writes itself . They have no bread. Only crumbs of hope that are being scavenged as we speak by vultures of greed. One voice tells their story here.

There but for the grace of God go I.

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