“Bread-Making… Lessons  for the New Year”
 

     “Bread-Making” was introduced to me because my hands were strong, ‘perfect for kneading’, or so she said many years ago. She made me an offer… “you learn how to knead, and I’ll share my recipes and ‘insider info’ to make sure you’re a good baker someday.”  I accepted. What else did I have to do on a Saturday evening and on New Year’s Eve?

     I watched several times, as she sifted and measured the flour, added together the dry ingredients, poured in the packet of yeast, a pinch of sugar, the liquids and shortening. Then, she stood over the dough, rocking back and forth as she kneaded. “Kneading”, she said, “is getting rid of a lot of hot air, that robs the bread of its smooth texture, leaving holes. Pockets of nothing.” Not a bad metaphor with some of the ‘hot air’ in my own life! 
     “Kneading”, she advised, was like, “tough love, nudging the dough to be its best.” I smelled the dough come alive with the yeast. You had to “love it” just right, if you wanted it to grow into a good, substantial loaf…not too much pressure and not too little. .. a good lesson for bread-making and for  nudging me to be my best with actions that are good and substantial for any and all relationships. 
     While we mixed and kneaded, she stressed the importance of experiential knowledge, getting a “feel” for the right temperature of the liquids, the warmth of the dough, and timing… when to fold in the fruits, grains and nuts that will enrich the bread. You can’t prepare the dough at arms’ length, “jump in, get those fingers sticky”, she babbled happily as we molded and dusted the dough into elastic balls. With one last roll onto the flour board, we lifted the dough and gently placed them into warmed, greased bowls.  Then, she stopped speaking… 
     “What’ll we do next? I blurted out. “Shhh!” She shushed me! She covered each bowl with a towel and set them in a warm, draft-free corner and silently closed all entrances and exits to and from the kitchen. “No more talking! No loud noises or banging of drawers! You’ll startle the dough!” She talked like this ball of dough was alive! Actually, it was! I was just new at relating to it. Clumsy by nature and awkward at relating to anything or anyone new, I took her stern whisper seriously and learned a bit about being gentle with the mystery before me… Now, it was time to wait! 
     And what a struggle it was!  Every few minutes I wanted to lift up the towels to see how far the dough had risen! “Not before it’s time”, she warned. “Just a little peek!” I begged. “Give the yeast a chance to do what it was born to do- bring the dough to life in the full,” she whispered, “You’ve done your part. Now wait ‘til you see the miracle that yeast can perform without your interference or your trying to rush what isn’t meant to be rushed!”
     “But, it’s almost New Year’s I said, we may not finish baking if we don’t get the dough into the oven soon!”  One glance from this Master Baker made it clear the dough needed rest and would grow in a silent, still, peaceful atmosphere. And that I was not adding to the ambiance with all my impatience.  “No need to fret when you hand over control.  Let the yeast work in its time!” I realized there’s a richness in waiting that I still had to learn.  It sees nature as a partner with a power all its own.  What’s not to appreciate? If I let it, waiting is a sacred action, as I sit with the dough of my life. I need to wait for all that’s unfinished in me to grow. I need to be careful, not to rush or interfere with the process. 
     The timer binged! We painted the loaf tops with egg whites and ushered them into the oven, 350* for five minutes, backing it down to 325* for thirty-five minutes. When the top of the bread was brown, we took a wooden spoon, tapped the top, listening for the “hollow sound’. We placed the finished loaves   on cooling racks next to the cutting board, all in time to watch the ball from NY drop down and to hear the sound of fireworks announcing the New Year! And the aroma of fresh bread filled the house! 
     Aren’t our lives together a bit like bread-making? We start out as a mixture of diversity. Don’t we have to get mixed together, be kneaded just right, to get rid of the hot air and become flexible, enriching? Isn’t it wise for all of us to have a certain amount of space, time and quiet to appreciate who and what is the hidden yeast that keeps our lives warm and nourishing so that others come to full stature?  Can’t you see our loving God in this process?!
     Have a grace-filled and joyful 2021!  As always, you are in our prayers!

     Sister Mary Louise Swift, CSFN