I’ve been baking bread. Loaves. Buns. Rolls. Sourdough mostly. And after many failed attempts.
I am my most patient self while baking bread. I am most patient with myself while baking bread. I allow myself the time. The learning. I forgive failures and put aside worries. The bread won’t be rushed. And neither will I.
There is only the bread. The starter. The flour. The salt. The yeast. Maybe a bit of honey. A pat of butter. Simple ingredients, pleasing to my senses. The combination comes to a kind of miracle. The task offers me some sort of purpose. Satisfaction. A notion I’m doing good work…Is wholesome the word I’m looking for?
Each step, its own place, its own part in the process, a piece of my peace. Of my pleasure. A moving meditation. I am quieted for a time – inside and out. The measuring and mixing. The kneading (needing.) Rising. Waiting. Shaping. Rising. Waiting. Baking. Browning. Smelling. By and by … we break bread and eat. A small blessing.
I clean up. Set the kitchen to rights. Hot water from the tap. Soap and soak bowls and tools. Brush flour from the big, wooden work board – taking care not to dust the floor.
I didn’t know I needed bread making. I did not know my hands needed a simple and satisfying task. I did not know my heart needed another way to love.
(Dedicated to Stephanie)
6 thoughts on “bread”
Gosh, I love it here. Always, Barbara.
You leave me calm and serenity and simplicity and grace.
You are one of God’s special gifts to me …
Thank you, Linda. That’s what bread making offers me … all of those … serenity, simplicity, and grace. All what I need most these days. Oh … and faith too. Thanks, as always, for reading what I write.
Thanx … and now I am hungry.
Nothing like warm bread from the oven! Thanks for the blessing and for stopping by!
You’ve invited us into your process and in so doing invited us into peace. This is a lovely gift. Thank you, Barbara.
Thank you so much Debby! Baking has brought me cupfuls of peace throughout this long, difficult, anxious time!