09 Oct


Slowness. A disruption of other familiar rhythms. Ingredients that tempt me and I cannot eat. Warmth and comfort. Hospitality. Love. Nutrition and nourishment. Reminder of a body grown, developed, formed, and given for our good. Learning. Recognition that every batch is different, needs different things, acts different ways. The understanding that rich flavor and texture develop over time. 

These are a few of the things baking sourdough teaches me. 

I woke early to prepare these bagels for my husband’s hunting trip. And for the first time in several days, I realized I was breathing. Bread has steps of cutting and resting, shaping and resting, more shaping and resting, coming to temperature, preparing and baking and cooling. Throughout each step there are active and inactive times. If I slip too far into other multi-tasking, I miss the necessary noticing on the timing of the next step. So, I remain present. 

In the dark and quiet of the morning, I lean into the knowledge once again that I tend toward believing a lie. I think slowness, quietness, and waiting are inactive and boring. The truth is, they are recalibrating and full of development. So much is going on under the surface—stuff I can’t take credit for (thank goodness!) and just get to marvel at in the end. 

I’m learning, through bread, that spiritual development and discipline may be connected to just about any healthy activity, if done in conjunction with God’s Spirit. Lessons and Presence are everywhere, we just have to slow down to see and acknowledge them.

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