While my thoughts became overwhelmed by what might happen to this sweet little boy as he grows up, I sliced some homemade artisan bread to use for lunch. I had never realized how many holes are in the bread. I forgot that the larger air holes told the baker (in this case, me) that the right amount of liquid had been used in the making of the dough. A bread that is too dry has smaller and fewer holes and will stale more quickly. Hmmm. How timely. The holes make the bread better. Could the holes in us make our lives better in some ways? I don't want my kids to live "dry" lives just to keep from being filled with holes. As much as I want to protect them from life's pain, I know I can't succeed all of the time. I guess my role as a parent is to teach them how to heal and learn from what life hands them. I've not done a very good job so far. I let the little things really drag me down and I'm too afraid of big-hole-causing events. Worry is not a healthy habit. I know people who walk around with open wounds; never healing or moving forward. I also know people who have suffered more than I can imagine and live beauty-filled lives.
3 hours ago