The magenta amaranth was drooping in the grain arrangement displayed for World Communion Sunday. I was tempted to harvest more. I likely hadn’t watered the amaranth enough, and it was front and center among the sorghum, rice, millet and sesame. Then I awakened to the beauty of the plants in all stages of their lives; grains dying to new life. Bread. Bread looks and tastes different in other parts of the world, and I find beauty in that too. I have allowed my deepest self to be touched by flavors unfamiliar to me. By trying new spices, grains, and recipes from other regions, my senses are awakened and I learn about other cultures more than any book I’ve read or class I’ve taken. The practice of baking bread has become prayer for me, and I feel and smell God’s goodness in every loaf. Bread is life and bread is love. But love means nothing if it is not shared. Love abounded on World Communion Sunday as more than sixty church members shared global artifacts and linens, photographs, stories, served as hosts, and offered bread created with their own hands. I loved seeing children and adults moving to the energetic beat of the bongos. I’m sure God was smiling and dancing along as well.