A time be born, a time to die… When my brother in law died nearly 3 years ago, I sang those words at his memorial service. “To everything,[turn, turn, turn] there is a season [turn, turn, turn] and a time to every purpose under heaven.”
Today as we were out running errands, the Byrds sang Turn, Turn, Turn to me. I know it was the right thing to do, back in October of 2017, to choose that song and sing it, no matter how difficult it was at the time. Today, is all rushed back at me and I sat in the car and very nearly cried. The sadness was overwhelming me and it was joined by a bit possibly anger, or maybe just chagrin: the song will forever bring me back to that day in church, to that time of sadness, to that year, that for my family was as bad or worse than 2020 has been for the world. How dare those emotions hang their hat on that melody and those words!
I always think I’m done with the grief. If I count my mother’s cousin, and someone that was a more remote family member, I lost 5 family members in 7 months. In the middle of that, I lost one of my dogs (I had watched him being born, I held him as he died); This on the heels of a year which sported a vacation to Hawaii cut short by abroken leg, building a new house and selling a home where we had lived for 30+ years and a spouse who had a run-in with colon cancer and said brother-in-law’s first cancer. I mostly am done, but it just jumps up and grabs me when I least expect it.
Life is good. I know that. To everything there is a season — a time to sow and a time to reap, a time to be born and a time to die, a time for war and a time for peace. And if I continue to listen — How can I keep from singing?
We got brave: my daughter and her family needed to vacate because their house is on market and there were several showings. They brought the kids’ bikes and skates and legos, and the son-in-law’s golf clubs (his parents live very close by). We spent hours on the back porch just being and talking. Kev played golf. My granddaughter continued in her journey to master roller blades and we could see visible honing of her abilities over just a day; Grandson rode his bike and showed me all the neat tricks he could do such as stand up and pedal and life 8 fingers off the handlebars. We baked a birthday cake, made homemade pasta (spaghetti) and french baguettes. We had fun.
I hope it wasn’t a mistake. I’ve been sneezing. It’s definitely allergy type sneezing complete with itchy eyes. I don’t know what has bloomed, but it has come in force. I wash my hands, I wash my face, I put eye drops in so I don’t rub my eyes. I wish there wasn’t a background worry that it could be other than allergies. This freaking virus messes with your head big time.
This being together, being social, is at the same time the thing that allows a virus to spread, but also builds us up so we can fight an infection. Two-edged sword: blessing and curse. Humans need community. Some more than others, but still, even we introverts need the company of others. We all need to touch the reality that we are one, for better or worse, sickness and health, good times and bad, winter and summer.
Until we get together again, I’ll stay put as much as possible. With the state “opening up” there are more temptations to call me out of the house. Do I actually keep the dentist appointment? It was rescheduled and it’s just a regular cleaning. What about getting my hair cut? That really needs doing. Or the eye doctor appointment? Decisions. And, I’m pretty sure the worst is not behind us. These things are scheduled already, but do I keep the appointments?
Getting to the new normal is going to be a long process it seems.
Yesterday I found myself reflecting on making sourdough bread in this time of isolation and uncertainty. Looking at the mechanics of the process and the experience leads to a different way of reflecting on life.
Making bread, especially the long slow process of sourdough, is a journey. I daresay a spiritual journey if you will let it be such. You begin with basic elements of flour and water. To make a starter, that’s the very beginning. Simply flour and water combined with time and attention. Let it work. Let it do its thing. If you rush it, the results are less than what you might hope for. If you need things to happen faster, keep it warm but not hot. Hot will kill it. If you need to slow it down, put it in the fridge. Not the freezer, just the fridge.
Isn’t that how a getting to know the heart of the Universe (which I call God) works? Basic elements like flour and water. Combine. Let it catch wild yeast in the air around it, or let any yeast trapped in with the wheat grow by giving it water. It grows and bubbles and it can double or triple in size. But, you have to feed it, and you have to remove some of it before feeding or it gets out of hand size-wise. And it might just die on you if it gets to large or out of hand.
Sometimes I think that’s a problem for big congregations (big parishes, megachurches, etc). The beginnings were active and vibrant. They understood and nourished the process. The excess was removed or allowed to go another way, while the core was fed and continued to grow and overflow and give away the excess. Isn’t that what Jesus (and/or Paul and others) seemed to want? Go out and spread the Good News to all the world.
Take that starter, feed it up, take the excess and do many things with it: bake a loaf or 2 of bread, make crumpets/waffles/tortillas, pass it on to someone else so they can feed it up and make more bread/waffles/crumpets and maybe even pass it on themselves. The resulting bread draws from the starter but the specifics are influenced by the flours that are added (whole wheat? white? eichorn? rye? barley? oats?). The product is influenced by any number of additives like powdered milk, seeds, how much salt and how much time at what temperature is used for fermenting and rising. How was it shaped and baked: in a steam oven, a dutch oven, as a boule or in loaf pans? How hot was the oven? How long did it cook?
The expression is different, but it’s all bread. And, all sourdough bread. It might be more or less sour. More or less chewy. Beautifully “decorated” by the slits made before baking. Or not. It’s all bread and it draws it life from the yeast that grew in the dough. (Don’t get me started down the road where I think about the yeast having to die before the bread is completely cooked… for another day).
It’s hard to throw away the discard when the starter is being fed or in its beginning. And, the discard can be used for other purposes. Yeah! But, if you don’t remove the discard, then your starter is going to flounder and possibly die. If you can’t let go, it (you, me) can’t grow and become healthy and active. Let it go! let it go! Rejoice that there is so much spirit or love that it has to be culled or spread around. Rejoice that there are other congregations or denominations or even religions because there is so much Love to go around. And the results are so varied and delicious.
My favorite it the simple version of the bread. Flour and water make the starter; flour and water combine and relax together; add the starter and the salt and let it work. Bake it at high heat in in a dutch oven lined with parchment paper. Crisp crust, serious bread, the taste of the sourdough coming through strongly. That doesn’t make the waffles, crumpets, sandwich loaves and buns bad or wrong. It doesn’t make it wrong when you add some yeast to help the process. They are each good in their own right.
In this time of uncertainty and social distancing, I’m having some troubles adapting. I long to be able to go to mass (not watch it on Youtube); I need the leavening and the interaction of being physically involved. I really haven’t gotten in to watching mass. It’s not a show. It’s not about seeing it “done right.” It’s about being present here and now. For me, that is very hard to do with a livestream video or recorded video. For others, this video mass is a lifesaver. I don’t feel that the church is being persecuted because of the rules about gathering close. It’s a call to look deeper and let the yeast work in whatever way it needs to do so.
I have taken this time of isolation as a chance to revive an old practice: breadmaking. My oldest child (who is an impossible 41 years old) was in kindergarten before he knew that bread could come from the grocery store. Back then my best friend (also next door neighbor) and I had a system whereby we each made 3 loaves of bread 1/week, kept 2 and gave the other family 1. So, fresh bread on Wednesdays and Saturdays were the norm. This of course was white or multigrain, yeast bread. Right from the Tassajara Bread book.
Back in the winter, I who for years have not really eaten bread, developed a hankering for real, sour sourdough bread. Like San Francisco sourdough. I couldn’t find any in the local stores. So, just before this virus stuff got really going, I researched making your own starter, making sourdough bread, etc. I even went back to try to remember the intricacies of making just yeast bread.
Bread making is an art. There is science involved in making the art happen as well. But, I had not exercised my art in way too long so the practice was less than perfect. The first couple of attempts were less than satisfactory. Way less. The first no knead artisan loaf (yeast added, not sourdough) was less than stellar. Edible, but not really enjoyable.
I found a great video on Youtube titled 15 Mistakes Most Beginner Sourdough Makers Make. Listening (studying?) and trying out his suggestions has made all the difference in the world. Things I learned:
it takes time — lots of time… like 10-12 hours of the process is resting, rising, fermenting
this dough is softer and wetter that the stuff I was used to making
despite the time, it is a gentle process which can vary from experience to experience
I’m not in control but I must listen and watch and go with the flow
yes you have to discard starter when it gets fed, but that doesn’t mean you have to throw it away. There are many wonderful things that can be made with sourdough discard (like crumpets)
It must be the Spirit at work. I started this before I knew anybody else would be making bread. Now I read that this seems to be a “thing” during quarantine. Must be because sometimes I can get flour, and sometimes not and sometimes those of us in town that make bread share the location where supplies can be acquired. The Spirit seems to be drawing us into this time of meditation and contemplation as we are given time for doing so. Time to let the yeast (wild caught or bought) do its job and make the bread work. Time perhaps to knead bread or stretch and fold the dough to further the mixing and give the dough shape and structure and the ability to hold a bit of a shape.
I feel Part 2 in the making. But, until then, here are a couple of Sourdough Breadmaking links for you to ponder:
It seems like forever when we went out to eat at Jim&Nick’s on a Sunday evening back in early March. We sat outside on the patio. They were struggling with staffing since students at the university had gone home for spring break, but would not be returning. Restaurants were open, but cleaning like fiends. The manager stopped by to visit at the table as we at in the mild spring air. (I know it was technically winter still, but down here in the southern USA the warm spring breezes don’t wait on the Spring equinox to take up residence.)
Now, I don’t go out much. JP goes to the grocery. I do go walking and I ventured out to the local farmer’s market which is like the grocery store. But I took one of my masks, I took the hand sanitizer and I stayed what I hope was an appropriate distance from the few other customers. I ventured into the garden area at Lowes also wearing a mask.
I despise wearing a mask. It’s uncomfortable and I know they have many leaks because I wear glasses and believe me, you know when your breath escapes upwards. I’ve made 11 masks so far. We’ve done the driving to pickup and deliver for the local mask makers. I appreciate the need. I hate wearing them.
More uncomfortably, I’m leery of public places. We ventured over to Callaway Gardens where you can still stroll outside and enjoy the plants. I wouldn’t touch the handrails. I scrubbed my hands in the restroom. I stayed far from other people.
This damn virus is reinforcing my inner hermit. That inner hermit needs to be coaxed into the world to make contacts and interact. Instead, it’s being fed. That’s makes this less difficult for me than for some others. However, I’m not sure that’s the best way for me to grow.
Dan was expressing concern over how this is affecting the little guys. What will be the long term effects of social distancing on 4 year olds. They don’t understand why. At least one thinks his cousin no longer likes him since he can’t come to play or go to school. It’s true. They need to interact and be with each other. I hope we get “back to normal” sooner rather than later, but I think it’s going to be longer than any of us expect.