Forgotten Sourdough
The other day was really busy. I mean, every day is pretty busy in today’s modern world, but that day was particularly hectic and jam packed and… busy.
Each of my kids had to be in a different place at a similar time. My husband had back to back work calls scheduled. Laundry needed to be done. The house needed to be reset after the holidays. Meals needed to be planned and groceries purchased accordingly.
I had work commitments, family commitments, house commitments… And I was working on everyone else’s time frame.
Be on zoom at 1. Drive one child to their appointment at 3. Make sure dinner is on the table at 6. Check on the friend who has been struggling. Make sure everyone has clean underwear. Be available to answer all of the questions and all of the details for all of the people at every single moment.
I know it might not sound like a lot when I try to summarize it here (at least without going into all of the boring details…), but it does take a lot of juggling and mental load, especially when I am working it all into other people’s schedules and timelines.
By the time I went to bed that night, I was exhausted, yet I felt unaccomplished. I was worn out, and at the same time, didn’t feel like I’d actually… done anything.
The next morning, when I went to check the fridge to make sure I had what I needed for everyone’s lunches that day, I saw a bowl that made me stop in my tracks.
No, not like that. It wasn’t some surprise, long forgotten form of produce or leftover. It wasn’t something someone else had put there that I didn’t know about.
It was sourdough. A loaf I had started, and set aside for its long final cold-proof, that I had intended to bake the previous afternoon.
That bowl of dough told me something that I really needed to hear. I mean, not literally, clearly. But it truly did tell me something. Actually, it told me a few things.
You see. I had actually really been looking forward to baking that bread. If you know anything about sourdough bread baking, it’s a pretty long process with a lot of waiting time built in. I had carefully and deliberately followed all of the steps for a full day and a half in preparation. I been patient with all of the mixing, stretching, folding, kneading and waiting, and I had set aside that bowl of dough with every intention of rewarding myself with fresh, warm bread at the end of that crazy, busy day.
And then I let other peoples’ timing, needs, and requests… take precedence. In all honestly, in the midst of all of my “busy,” I had forgotten all about it. I had forgotten about the work that I’d put in. I’d forgotten the one thing that I, personally, had added to my to-do list for myself.
So here is what my sourdough taught me - what that bowl told me when I opened the refrigerator.
Faster is not always better. Rushing through to complete more steps does not necessarily guarantee a better outcome. Patience can be your biggest asset.
Rest is productive. Some of the best growth, in bread and in life, happens when you let it rest.
Each step has a purpose - allow yourself to find meaning, comfort, and beauty in what could be seen as the mundane act of doing.
Be forgiving. You can’t always control the circumstances, but you can always learn from it. The loaf, or the project, or the experience… will either work or it won’t. Either way, there is much to be learned.
Sometimes you have to let go of things or they will grow so large as to overwhelm you. Okay, this one I learned from my sourdough starter, not that actual loaf itself. But the loaf was created using a healthy starter, and to build a healthy starter, you have to “feed” it, which can lead to a lot of starter. In order to not be overrun by the “good,” you have to let some things go. You discard some starter to keep the rest fresh. You let go of things in life so that you can feel the joy in what you’ve been working towards.
So that morning, after listening to that rather talkative bowl of dough in my refrigerator, I grabbed my phone and set a reminder to bake that loaf of bread. I mean, I was pretty confident that I wouldn’t forget two days in a row, but the truth is, that reminder was more than a reminder - it was a conscious decision to add myself - my joy, something just for me - to my to-do list.
And the end result was a reminder that life, like fresh bread, can be pretty delicious, even when it doesn’t go exactly as we planned.