bread making

During my year in MN, I lived with a sister who baked bread. I looked forward to the days when I walked in the door and could smell fresh bread. Near the end of my time there, she taught me how to bake it and gave me a copy of her recipe. It was the first time that I knew someone who took the time to make bread. Heck, it was the first time that I knew/lived with people who canned food & only the second time I lived with someone who made meals from scratch.

ingredients : step one 

Last weekend, my SD reminded me that I need to remember to take time for myself. I scoffed at her and said something along the lines of, "but I do." Nevertheless, I promised her that I would take some time for myself on Monday. As I was falling asleep last night, I thought about this bread. I had asked another volunteer for the recipe last week (after losing my copy). All I would need to do was run to the West Side Market for cracked wheat and honey.

It was the perfect "time for myself" activity. I cleaned the kitchen so I could start out with a clean slate and laid out the ingredients. I followed the directions and strayed a bit when I knew that it needed something else.

ready for the oven

I waited in anticipation for the loaves to finish baking. They weren't my best, but still delicious.

It was the perfect chunk of time to take for myself - to relax and regroup. Work takes a lot out of me and quiet time is the last thing I want to do when I get home at night. I'll sit on the couch and say, "I should go to my room early & journal," but I rarely do it. Yet, I feel like I'm reaching my breaking point - like I desperately need to take this time even if I feel guilty about not doing something else.

Spending the time baking bread was a good reminder that I don't need to feel guilty about taking time for me. I need to do it for my sanity, for clarity, and for discernment. I think I can manage it. (Although, I don't think I have in the past week). It's a work in progress.

finished product