Where the Oven Still Warms: Pedro’s Story of Presence and Provision

Where the Oven Still Warms: Pedro’s Story of Presence and Provision

There’s something sacred about the way Pedro kneads dough. His hands press gently yet firmly, folding the olive-oil-softened mixture into itself, over and over. Today, it’s focaccia-his favourite Italian savoury. He brushes the top with rosemary and sea salt, whispering prayers into each groove made by his fingertips.

It’s been months or years since his last full-time job in the humanitarian sector. Pedro Albuquerque, once a respected aid worker in war zones and refugee camps, now finds himself in a small, rented kitchen in a foreign land, with only the scent of warm bread and the silence of unanswered emails to fill his days.

He has walked away from everything familiar. With his wife by his side and little else, they crossed oceans to begin again. But the beginning hasn't come yet. What has come instead is waiting. Long, painful waiting.

And yet, as the oven hums and his hands stay busy, Pedro remembers the words of the psalmist:

“O Lord, you have searched me and known me... Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?” (Psalm 139:1, 7)

God knows. He always has. Through every packed tent, every dusty roadside, every bureaucratic rejection, and hopeful resume sent into silence-God knew Pedro’s name. He was never out of sight, never misplaced in the shuffle of nations.

Sometimes, Pedro wonders aloud: “If the Lord is my Shepherd, and I shall not want... why then do I feel this lack?”
He turns to Psalm 23:1-2-reminding himself that the Good Shepherd leads him beside still waters and restores his soul even when his path feels barren.

Maybe the Shepherd is not late. Maybe He is proving, in Pedro’s life, the truth that “waiting” is not the same as “forsaken.” Like dough left to rise, some things cannot be rushed.

Pedro wipes his hands and peeks through the oven glass. The focaccia is golden now, rising just right. It strikes him-this too is a form of resurrection. What once seemed lifeless, with time and heat, is being transformed.

He breathes in deeply. It smells like hope.

In this season, Pedro is learning that God’s presence is not always felt through activity or affirmation, but often through stillness and silence. The Shepherd knows where His sheep are. And He knows when to feed them.

To all who wait like Pedro-with silent CVs, uncertain futures, and fragile faith-this is your assurance: You are not lost. You are being loved. Even now, the oven still warms.

Reflection Prayer:
Lord, thank You that even when we feel forgotten, you are faithfully present. Remind us, like Pedro, that in the waiting, you are shaping us for what’s next. Let Your promises rise within us like bread in Your holy hands. Amen.