Retired pastor Sondra Willobee writes an ode of gratitude for the simple ways the daily tasks of our livelihood bless and strengthen others.
SONDRA WILLOBEE
Retired Pastor, Michigan Conference
“Bless, O Lord, the work of our hands. O bless the work of our hands.” (Psalm 90:17, author’s translation)
“Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it, he broke it and gave it to his friends.” (Matthew 26:26, author’s translation)
After a bad night, I sometimes drive to the Bearclaw Coffee hut on the corner of North Territorial and Dexter-Pinckney Roads in Dexter. To get an apple fritter. And a strong cup of English breakfast tea. Then, I drive to Hudson Mills Metropark and sit in the Rapids View picnic area to watch the Huron River.
The tea steams in the cup. The fritter waits in the bag. The river flows by. And I am filled with gratitude for the baker who got up in the middle of the night to make this fritter I am about to eat. Here is my tribute to her.
To the person who makes the apple fritters at Dexter Bakery
Monday, it’s always Monday,
when the desire for heavy pastry rises in me.
Perhaps it’s the exertions of the weekend — the long
hikes, the high piles of laundry, the necessary exhortations
from the preacher — as I strive to be better than I am.
I think of driving to the little coffee house at the corner
of two country roads to wait my turn with commuters tapping
their consoles and construction workers shifting in their bright
neon vests, waiting, waiting for the pony-tailed barista
to hand our treats through the window in a thin paper bag.
The thought of those fritters rousts me from the warm dent
I’ve made in the bed. I put on my clothes and shoes. Then
I remember: You are not at the bakery. Monday is your day off.
As it should be.
You, too, deserve a rest from your labors, a break
from the heat of the ovens and the clatter of baking
sheets in the racks. The sugary dust that sticks
to your skin. Even if you still love the way the yeast
bubbles through the dough, and how the dough flares
in the fryer, and still admire how the glaze slides
into every crevasse.
You need your sabbath, too.
When I forget that it’s a Monday, and come to the little window
asking for a fritter only to be handed a grainy cake donut or some good-for-you
cookie with oats and millet and God knows what, the barista agrees
with my dismay: “No one makes fritters like her. She’ll be back tomorrow.”
So I come back.
Do you know, dear baker, dear maker of delectable
pastries, how many people you gladden on any given
day? How many tense fingers loosen just a little, how many
calloused palms receive a bit of goodness from the work
of your hands?
Life is so often hard.
Yet this bread breaks in easy chunks
and fills our mouths with sweetness.
Just so, in simple and hidden ways,
we strengthen each other.
The Rev. Sondra Willobee is a retired elder, last serving as lead pastor at South Lyon: First UMC. She wrote articles for The Michigan Christian Advocate, FaithLink, and Linktionary, and is the author of The Write Stuff: Crafting Sermons That Capture and Convince (2009). You can also read her blog, www.sondrawillobee.com/blog.
Last Updated on September 13, 2024