Yesterday was a beautiful day: mid 60s, no wind, hot sun, cloudless skies. Walking over to the “bread store” was a delight, finally feeling better after a bout with the dreaded gamboo.

The “bread store” is an Oroweat outlet. They sell my favorite bread, Oatnut for $1.99. At a nearby supermarket is over $4.00. Its a little over a mile away so it makes a nice walk.

Entering the store, I noticed two women.  Mother and daughter as it turned out. They were busy loading up a shopping cart with lots of bread products, the cart being a brief way station on the journey to their hips. I was in full invisible mode, as old men my age are, I wasn’t noticed.

Wandering through the store, I looked at the soup mixes, the bulk spices, the fried pork rinds with chili, Bimbo cookies, on and on. Each time I come to the store I look at this stuff; I don’t recall ever buying any of it. My Oatnut bread was soon in the basket, snuggling up to a loaf of Country Buttermilk for Bonnie. I examined the rack of jams, considered orange marmalade, put it back on the shelf, walked off, came back and put it in the basket.

All the time the mother and daughter were carrying on an animated and somewhat loud conversation. They were talking to the proprietor (proprietress?) of the store, an open, chatty woman in her mid 40s I guess. The conversation was about their church. As my interest in a rack of peanut brittle staled, the conversation about the ins and outs of the church they shared rushed in.

Speaking in a somewhat defiant tone, Ms. Proprietress declared she “had not been to church for 3 Sundays”. Undismayed, the daughter proceeded recounting that last Sunday was a red-letter day. I was at the check out area by now, quietly standing in line.

“For the nine o’clock service there were over 300 people”. This was greeted with approval. I even found myself with a good feeling.

“I took my 4 kids to church every Sunday! Do you think one of them goes to church now?” Ms. Proprietress ventured forth.

“At the eleven o’clock services, they say there were 500 people. I know it was crowded, I had to sit in those 4 chairs over by the windows”. “500 people” was greeted with small gasps. Even I thought that was a lot.

“My ex always thought it was stupid to go to church” Ms. Proprietress said in a distant voice, “but I still took the kids”.

The daughter shifted on her feet and leaned forward. “And you know what”. We all leaned forward. “What?” said Mom.

“They took in over $12,000”. Smiles, gasps all around. I found myself in a hi-five moment.

The news shared, the conversation turned to bags and bread, “get one from the free rack”. Bills were paid, and mom and daughter took their bags out the door.

“Well, that’s all good” said Ms. Proprietress. “But I haven’t been to church for 3 weeks. No matter, I’m in it for the long haul”

I was still thinking of that when I found myself in the warm sun, on my way home.