Breaking Bread


Laughter radiates through the open courtyard, warm like the afternoon sun.  We are basking in it, sprawled out on ornamented stools and plush cushions, circling a low table.  Hospitality holds us close, like the arms of family.  We sit in awe as this eternally gracious family prepares a meal for us.  Moroccan folded bread (meloui) is brought out, piled generously high.  Triangles of soft cheese, bowls of fresh honey and bitter olives, plates of butter, and cups of steamy mint tea are added to the spread.  I am overwhelmed, in all the best ways.  Overcome with emotion, I decide to snap a quick picture.

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Now, Looking back through my photos of the trip, this one stands out to me, beckoning me to remember a day filled with easy laughter, delicious and overflowing food, and good company.  This photo beckons me also to remember the true meaning of abundance; we have been undeniably blessed to experience a feast and a day which demands our remembering.  In fact, I remember as we sat and ate, I jokingly mentioned that they should use the meloui for communion bread.  Someone who was sitting beside me, turned, and as she tore off a piece of the folded bread, said, “This, what we’re doing right now, this IS communion.”


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