I made bread today. Mom, baker par excellence, and dad, the preacher-farmer man, would both have frowned I’d guess (although they would have smiled to see their son mixing dough). The flour that I used came from grinding almonds into meal, not from wheat. No thought of carbohydrates for them. And stalks of wheat are etched into the headstone of their grave. But I think that this would count, on Sunday at the table up front at the church, with the wine. I’d guess the Man who broke the loaf that night would say of what I baked, “Take eat”.