Jacob the Baker: Gentle Wisdom for a Complicated World (Jacob the Baker Series) Read Online Free

drew calmer. “In your memory,” he answered.
    “Memory?” said the woman, dumbstruck at this suggestion. “Memory can’t carry wealth!”
    Jacob’s focus seized the woman’s eye. “That is only because you have already forgotten what is of value.”

A DOOR IS A HOLE WE CUT IN OUR WALL
    A man who appeared to be a mason from the crusts of dried cement on his shirt waited patiently one day for a chance to speak with Jacob. The man’s voice was gruff—but not his manner.
    “Jacob, all my life I have made homes for others. Now I am preparing to build a home for myself. Do you have any suggestions?”
    Jacob laughed. “Who is Jacob the baker to mix mortar and make bricks?”
    But, then, Jacob raised his left index finger, as if touching an old memory, and waved it in the air, suggesting there was maybe one thought he could offer.
    “It says in our books: In order for a house to be a house, it must have a window and a door.”
    A smile climbed the man’s face. “Jacob, this much even I know.” Those behind the man chuckled as well.
    “But,” Jacob continued, as if he did not hear their laughter, “do you know why I think a house must have a window and a door?”
    Suddenly, it became very quiet again. Humility held over the crowd. People craned their necks to hear. And Jacob began again.
    “My house must have a door so I can enter myself, and a window so I can see beyond myself!”
    “And if it doesn’t?” asked the man.
    A great sadness rolled its shadow across Jacob. The words came slowly.
    “We must remember,” said Jacob, “the only difference between a house and a coffin is a door.”

HUMILITY IS THE INTEGRITY OF WISDOM
    W hen the world went back to their homes, Jacob turned off the lights in the bakery and pulled the door shut behind him.
    The morning rain had given way to a deep fog. For the first time since waking, he was alone.
    He purposely ignored brushing off the flour that spotted his pants. It reminded him that he was a baker.
    He crossed a small bridge, directing himself toward the home of an elderly man who was ill.
    Jacob knocked on the door. The smell of medicines and old age waited in the air. There was no answer. He let himself in.
    Mr. Gold’s cane hung on the back of the doorknob. When Jacob entered, the cane began to swing like a metronome keeping time on an ancient clock.
    Mr. Gold sat propped up against several pillows. Licking his forefinger, he turned the page of his Bible.
    “Ah, Jacob,” said Mr. Gold, his voice filled with the tone of a man slipping into something comfortable. “You come to visit me because I am sick and that is your responsibility?”
    “No, Mr. Gold,” said Jacob. “Your illness I visit out of responsibility. You I visit out of love.”
    Mr. Gold laughed, triggered by the warmth beneath Jacob’s humor.
    “Jacob, I hear many others are discovering how clever you are. Do you offer these people answers?”
    “Hopefully I offer them a mirror.”
    “Don’t be so humble! I wish I had your wisdom.”
    “No you don’t!” said Jacob emphatically.
    Mr. Gold leaned forward. “How do you know what I want?”
    “How do you know what I know?” smiled Jacob.

THE MOMENTS THAT THE WORLD IGNORED FILLED HIS PLATE
    I t was always the small, solitary acts of living that brought Jacob peace.
    The more attention others drew to him, the more pleasure he began to draw from the commonplace. The moments that the world ignored filled his plate.
    He did not seem susceptible to his own inflation. On the contrary, he appeared to relish and grow more comfortable with making himself less. In this process, the subtleties of living grew, their significance enhanced.
    The teapot whistled when it was ready. From this, Jacob took that he must be patient until he is called. And when he is called, he must be ableto hear the call; and for this to happen he must be willing to pay attention. And when the call came, and he was listening, he must be prepared to act. Patience, calm,