I scrape the bowl and empty the last of the batter into the loaf pans. Gathering the baking stuff together, I stack whisk and cups in the mixing bowl and turn the tap on, angling the handle to “warm”. A weak stream trickles out of the faucet, then dies away into nothing.
It’s been one of those days.
You know? One of those cranky days when you stay up too late so you get up too late, so you don’t make the time to sit quietly with Jesus in the morning, so your temper’s frayed and your mind is tangled, and every little molehill looks like a mountain...
I’m finally baking cranberry bread. I’ve been putting it off because cranberries are worth their weight in gold, and after Christmas passed with me somehow not using them, a suitably special occasion just has not seemed to appear.
Today’s the day. Who cares if it’s not an occasion? This cranky day needs cranberry bread.
Full loaf pans safely in the oven, timer set, utensils in the sink, I stare at the trickle of water. And I remember.
I slow to a trickle when I’m not connected to the Source. My energy flow dies away to nothing when I’m not positioned under the Waterfall.
I turn the faucet off, swivel the handle into the middle, pull it on again, and the pump whirrs to life in the basement. Water surges from the tap, spraying everything in the sink.
I watch the thickened stream, the water flowing with increased power. And I acknowledge:
The scent of baking bread slowly fills the house, and I inwardly reconnect to the Source of Life and Strength.
Maybe the second half of this day will flow more peacefully?