My juice this morning was grape flavored. I thought of Communion Juice. My first early times of taking communion were mixed. I was taught about it's meaning but it was hard for a young child to understand. I remember kneeling at the alter, beside my Mother. Her watchful eye on me as the bread was passed. In those days we were not as fancy as today. Plate piled with large pieces of white bread, done in the kitchen by the faithful ladies of the Church, who did everything like that. I remember being tempted to take a handful, it looked so good. But a threating eye from my Mother kept me at bay. Oh, but those cute little glasses of juice really thrilled me. We used those kind of glasses at Broadmeadow for many years. I remember helping with those. Back to little Dot. She learned over the years just what bread of life and the blood shed for me really meant. But to a child it meant == sort of a party. How about you?
My, My, how my thoughts rambled this morning. My Bird family is having stale Melba toast for their communion.
BETTY (I have other memories of communion, to tell) BOOP )
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