Manna from Heaven

On Sunday we arrived at church a full fifteen minutes before sacrament meeting and in our sparsely populated parking lot, I counted three silver Honda Odysseys. More specifically, three silver Honda Odysseys just in our row. I don't have an exact number, but I believe our minivan has six identical twins (septuplets?) attending our ward on a regular basis.

Since Bruder helps with the sacrament, he often brings bread. Turns out, this Sunday wasn't Bruder's turn, so he told me he took the bread back to our car. (You know where this is heading).

So, after our meetings were finished, and we were walking out to the parking lot, he said that since our car was locked, he had to leave the bread on the hood. My mind was busy with two troubling thoughts. Number one: My teenager could think of no other option and had to leave a loaf of bread on the hood of our car, and Number two: I didn't lock it.

Before I could formulate words, Bruder stopped in front of an empty parking space.

"Hey," he said, "Where did our car go? It was right here."

"No," I said, pointing. "Our car is over there."

"uh-oh."

So I hope someone in our ward is enjoying our Oroweat. I hope they appreciate the pleasant hint of molasses. I sincerely hope they aren't (gasp) white bread people. And if they are, maybe 100% whole wheat food falling from the sky and landing on their vehicle on a Sabbath morning will cause them to change their ways.