Yesterday I walked with Flicka. Bread came to mind again as we rounded the path by Kordiak Park. Last week, I promised my blog readers something to chew on today. I had written about crumbs turning into mouthfuls, but where were they now, these new bites to enjoy together?
“I’m writing about bread tomorrow,” I said, and my girl already knew what I meant. “But I’m coming up empty. Any ideas?”
Cast your bread upon the waters...
“Hm,” she said. “Let me think about that.”
But the words dropped into my spirit again, and I knew I already had my answer. “What does ‘Cast your bread upon the waters’ mean to you?”
We talked about the ancient sentence, fresh to me now. I searched online as we strode along.
Cast your bread upon the waters, for you will find it after many days. Give a portion to seven, or even to eight, for you know not what disaster may happen on earth.
Later at home, I tasted my options. It seemed the implied wisdom was to diversify one’s investments. A few commentaries suggested as much. But I considered the mindset behind the instruction, the upside-down ways of the Bread of Life in a place where consumed years will be restored and losing one’s life means finding it.
What if giving to others was a kind of insurance plan? What if safety and provision were guarantees for my investment? What if giving meant gaining? Or, what if giving meant gaining but not in the way I expected?
I couldn’t see the future—or how my casting would go.
But I could see the waters before me.
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family, neighbors, and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.