an exchange

In college I lived down the street and around the bend from a monastery that made amazing bread.  Amazing.  I still get warm fuzzies when I walk into their bread shop and smell their bread.  I would stop by on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which were the bake days, and buy fresh loaves to make sandwiches for the rest of the week.  I would pick up fresh honey and jam, too.  There was a sense of peace and solitude there that I really appreciated amongst the busy-ness and stress of college life.  That yearning for peace also lead me to knitting.  Not bad for college discoveries.

In the bread store, there was this little card that you could pick up.  A meditation for the day.  It has always been the same one, and one that speaks to me greatly.  I have one in my car, one as a bookmark for my latest read, and a few others scattered about.  The general theme is that each day is an exchange.  A day is given to you and it is your choice on how you will exchange that day--for good or for bad.

I really do try to live that way, remembering that each day, each moment has been gifted to me but there are days things don't quite fall into place.  Like on Friday when the monster storm left two feet on snow every where and the plow guy plowed me in.  The roads weren't plowed, my coffee was cold, and my socks were wet all day.  There were tears, people.  Lots of tears. What I'm saying is that it could have been a really bad day.  But it wasn't. I had a choice- to live the day as a 'bad day' throwing in the towel to the potential that the day had to offer or living a day of joy.

It was not easy but I did it.  I came home, turned on Vivaldi's Spring and baked.  I delivered gratitude in the form of cookies. As I did that the skies opened up and they were blue.  Very blue.  Then I spent the rest of the night with dear friends who made me laugh until a very late hour.

When it was still snowing later in the weekend I made an exchange again.  Instead of complaining, I strapped on the snowshoes, grabbed my camera and captured the beauty of three feet of snow in the woods.  Beautiful.  A perfect exchange.

When I came home, I made the most terrific french toast (with bread from that dear monestary).  It was warm and dense, yet light and sweet.  Perfect for my chill-enduced hunger.  Here's the recipe for you:

 French Toast

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp nutmeg

1/4 c. organic vanilla yogurt

splash of skim milk

Whisk the ingredients together, pour into a low pan and soak the bread.  A few minutes on either side will be good.  Cook on a warm, buttered pan until golden on either side.  Drizzle with maple syrup.  Eat.  Enjoy.

Thank you for spending a few moments here today!