-
The Grace of Risen Dough
- The University Press of Kentucky
- Chapter
- Additional Information
39 The Grace of Risen Dough In death, my mother will stand elbow deep in the yeasty flesh of dough as she did five school days a week for over twenty years. A stainless baker’s table with three gleaming walls holds the bounty she embraces, folds, kneads, and pinches into trays and trays of airlight rolls that even the pickiest eaters anticipate. “It’s pretty work,” she says, “to watch the dough rise, to work it, shape it, and watch the tops grow delicious brown. Kind of like raising kids,” she laughs. She will set sacks of leftovers outside the back door, nothing said, for those who have no other supper, no heart to throw away what might be needed. She believes in a waiting time before Heaven, work to be done before rest, so she will do what she knows, embrace her work, feed us all. The wonderful lunch ladies at Temple Star School, Sullivan County, Tennessee . The author’s mother, the manager, is on the far right. ...