Baking flatbread, which accompanies most meals.
Me, too, Carolyn—after even less than two days. "We don't have to stay another night, do we?" Gayle asks after church. Our hair still smelling of smoke, we head home, more appreciative than ever of all the luxuries we sometimes overlook—and giving thanks for all the shoulders we stand upon. None of us can store food in a freezer, turn on a stove, fill up a gas tank, or soak in a bathtub without that recognition. We are who we are because someone brave walked before us.
