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The Bread of Joy

"The bread of Joy"

The very bread of Joy

I was running out of time for an important assignment and a quick sharp feeling gripped me as it felt like there was going to be a reprimand afterwards. The last time I was late, my pay was deducted without a query. Every Dollar mattered in this part of the World.

Although with such focused pace, I still managed to peep into my favorite bakery to see if my #joy giving bread was still available on display. Lo and behold, it was!

The bread in question has a way of making a man forget his woes. I would have called it the ‘Bread of life’ but that title obviously is for none other than our Lord Jesus Christ. In view of the above, and since it is the season of Joy, permit me to call it the ‘bread of Joy’. Although this particular bread is less than a year old in my neighborhood, it has been a source of joy to all of us – I mean a practical source of joy!

There are many similarities as well as differences between this bread of Joy and the Bread of life, but I will mention just one of each.

You can’t eat the bread of Joy and keep quiet. You have to tell a friend! It spreads like wildfire. Just as you can’t have eaten the Bread of life and keep it to yourself. Your brother needed to know!

While the Bread of life lasts forever and is limitless in supply, this bread of joy is limited in supply – only 17 loaves for my region. Yes 17! Which explains my excitement at having seen one on display today.

I walked into the shop – barged in actually – and brashly asked for a loaf of bread, for truly I was in a hurry!

“Hey, you didn’t even say hello!” She opined in Russian with a visible display of disappointment. I immediately stopped in my tracks.

All the ladies who work at the bakery are very well known to me. Oh well, they have stopped posting men to that particular bakery I guess

My ‘bread buying’ sessions were not just a ‘purchase and go’ kind of activity, it was richer. I would ask how they fared and as usual ask if they couldn’t order more ‘Platyonkas’ for our region, for the bread was called ‘platyonka’. 17, I argued was too few a number!

I apologized for not saying hello, said hello, asked what they were up to, picked up the jewel cum ‘bread of joy’ and ran off to catch a train.

Luckily for me, I wasn’t very late to the office, and thus did what I had to do in good time.

On finishing my business, I made my way out of the building, after which the secretary locked the doors signifying the end of the business day.

A few minutes later, I felt different. ‘Why was I empty handed?’ I asked myself.

I had forgotten the bread – the bread of joy!


p.s *The writer indeed returned to pick up the bread. He returned home filled with #joy!

Ike Amadi

Author of the book Do Something! I am an advocate of all things #fresh. I want to see you become a #dosomethingperson.

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