Bread and Stones

I've had an image in my mind for a while of a big monument like the ones pioneers built.  It's made out of hundreds of stones all mortared together in some beautiful setting.  Sometimes you find them with a plaque attached that lets you know the reason for them.  Sometimes you can see where the plaque used to be and you have to wonder.  I searched the internet and this photo was the closest thing I could find to what I imagine. 

The reason for the image comes from a scripture--roughly--Michelle's translation--"Who are you, if, when your child asks for bread, you give him a stone?"  You can see the actual words in Matthew 7:9.    It goes on to talk about how we give our children good gifts because we love them and that God gives them even better gifts because he knows their needs better and loves them even more than we do.  I've really been thinking about how many times I've given stones instead of bread. 

I don't make homemade bread.  I could say I can't or that I don't know how, but I have umpteen cookbooks and plenty of flour.  I used to have a bread maker, but something happened to it.  I buy the frozen dough sometimes, but I usually make it into scones.  I don't make homemade bread.   I think I'm afraid of it.  I make such good pies and cookies and so many other things, but not bread.  My mother made the best homemade bread.  She would rub butter--real butter over the loaf right after it came out  of the oven so it would glisten on top.  It would only last one day no matter how many loaves she baked, because it was so good.  She is such a good soft-hearted mother.  She gave me all the right things.  She always said things in just the right way so that I would draw the right conclusion on my own.  She never pushed or forced.  She always complimented me and made me feel smart and talented and even though I never believed her, she always told me I was beautiful.  She gave me bread.

I could use some of her qualities.  I'm pretty rough around the edges--like a stone.  I say things that come out wrong and hurt feelings.  I don't focus on the positive enough and I certainly don't have a light fluffy way of making everything glisten.  This new year, I'm going to learn how to make homemade bread, but more importantly,  I'm going to learn how to give bread.  Maybe every mother in the world sits pondering all the unnecessary stones she has given her children.  I kind of hope so.  Anyway, the point of the monument?  I'm hoping by the end, when I'm the one going in the ground, that my kids won't see my mothering as a huge pile of stones.