A Formula for Babies and Bread
Yesterday was a long day. By 7:40 am, Lollipop and I found ourselves headed through the mountains to a friend's house to learn how to make sourdough bread. I've made sourdough bread, and I have made sourdough biscuits and one time even something fancy that I forgot what was. I just remember how delicious it was. So although my foray into sourdough was semi successful, i didn’t understand the science behind it and ultimately it went down in a great big dusty heap.
Over Thanksgiving, my niece brought me a small bit of her Chuck. She is cut from the same cloth I am and so yes, she names her sourdough starter. She fed and nourished him while she was here and then handed him over to my infidel's hands. I promptly killed Chuck. Or I think he is dead. He is languishing in my fridge and I feel only terror when I look at him in his jar.
So when my friend handed me the sour cream container with a precious 7 oz of her starter, I felt like I was having a head rush. No, not again, I thought hopelessly. Still, I am not a quitter so I took that little Amish sour cream container home and I set my hand to the plow.
My Lollipop joined me in the effort. She took hold of the dough and masterfully stretched and folded to my utter amazement. This child comes from me, but this child is her Daddy’s daughter. I usually demand at least four or five failed efforts before I can master a new art. Not her though, just like my beloved mann, she picked it up immediately and without a single failed effort.
Surely if God had tasted sourdough, he would have said “man can live by bread alone,” this meaty, crusty bread that holds butter and honey just right and fascinates me with its soft crumb and crisp crust. It would be a crime to cut the crust off this bread. As I put thick butter and honey on my second slice, I said happily to B, “this bread won’t make me fat either.” I imagine my dedicated angel clicking his tongue and face-palming to his colleagues. “The cognitive dissonance with this one…” his voice trailed off.
But seriously, regular bread fills me with inflammation and makes me retain water. Not sourdough. Neither does it give me heartburn like other bread does. It’s magic bread!
To make this bread is a process. The ingredients must be measured out. The dough must be gently stretched and folded in regular intervals. It needs to sit and ferment for a scheduled time, and finally, it must be shaped, sprinkled with cornmeal, and eventually baked.
It’s impossible to engage in this timeless tradition without thinking of the correlation with child-rearing. A Mama must know when to stretch a child. She must have faith in the process, that if she follows the word of God, in the end, she will have done good work.
While bread making has a simple formula, Mothering does not. A mother must be elastic, wise, willing to live life slowly with great intention.
“The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.”
When her child spills a glass of milk she must be able to master her emotions so she can come up beside the child with compassion instead of irritation.
When her child lies intentionally, she must be savvy enough to recognize the need to discipline with the goal in mind that this never happens again.
A Mama needs emotional maturity to walk circumspectly before her pre-teens with respect to the newly developing adult, and kindness when they are not kind.
Breadmaking has a formula, and I guess in some ways so does babymaking and child-raising. We know the formula that baby-making takes. Only one glorious moment between Mom and Dad engaging in that gift that God gave husband and wife, and boom, a soul is made. Two weeks later suspicions arise, a test is procured, and two lines appear.
So how does child-raising have a formula? The formula is gentleness,confidence, kindness, compassion, patience, a slow intentional peace that covers her home like a warm handmade quilt. Humor, flexibility and not being easily offended.
When you are bread-making you must submit to the art. You must trust the process. You have to do it slowly and intentionally. So it is with the shaping of a human. You must submit to the art, trust the process and do it slowly with intention.
If you spend your days on your phone, reading the news, researching covid, researching your health, selling your MLM, snapping at your husband, and ignoring reality, you will reap the rewards of this. You might have money, and good health, but sister, what about your children?
Your children are your most valuable asset. They are our most valuable asset. Our children are our future. They are valuable. They are worth a million times more than money which will rot and burn.
Mothering in chaos is extremely hard.
Mothering with constant distractions is brutal.
Mothering peacefully leaves you with the resources you need to mother again the next day.
The hunk of ham had sent me several YouTube videos which he wanted me to watch with him.
“Mom, does it ever get old always having people on you and cuddling you?” Lollipop asked.
“No honey, I love being snuggled,” I replied.
Everyone cuddles Mom. From the 17 yr old giant ham of a boy to the baby who gets deeply offended if he sees anyone else on Mom’s lap, to Dad who snuggles Mom day and night and night and day.
It is Mom who has healing hands.
It is Mom who kisses bruises, squeezes shoulders, and hugs without reservation.
Rise up and claim your birthright as a child of God and daughter of Sarah.
Sister, don’t be afraid of anything and do good.
Do good.
It’s a good formula.
Do good.
Don’t be afraid.
Claim your daughterhood.
Trust Jesus
Your husband and children want you.
You are equipped and ready.
Go out and without fear, do good.