The kitchen. Flour covers the cabinets, beans are on the stove and the smell of pineapple captures the sweet aroma of conversations, laughter, singing, dancing and sharing of cultures.
We have shared recipes, stories, and prayer. At home when having company over we would always find ourselves lingering around the table long after the dinner had been served. There is comfort in fellowship and sharing of food. It’s where moms teach their little girls how to cook, grandma’s bake cookies with their littles, and from generation to generation stories and recipes are passed down.
Here in Uganda I am gaining new stories and new recipes. Every day His bread is enough.