Rainy Days, Warm Bread, and Blessings!

Warning, this post is quite long... and includes very little mention of baby Blackley...which is still in the womb!

This morning I awoke to our phone ringing. I pulled myself up from my slumber on our fouton, my new bed until this child comes, and answered. It was my mother. She quickly realized that I was still half asleep and just as quickly apologized. She had but one question and it was quickly answered...No I'm not in labor, nor has the baby come. Do I blame her for her curiosity? No, in fact, all of our family members have done a great job at showing concern and excitement while keeping a safe distance.

I had a short chat with mom, mostly about the baby, some about her work (a fourth grade teacher) and a little about the weather...she had worn capris to work and was on recess duty this afternoon, most likely in the rain! After hanging up, I decided to lay down again-after all, I had no agenda for the day and I was still tired. As I lay there I began craving something I haven't craved in a very long time....the desire to bake. I LOVE baking, and unfortunately, I also love sampling many of my baked goods. This time my desire was purely to bake, not for the end product.

Jason has been craving my homemade granola for quite some time, and I decided that was easy enough to make. I pulled myself up from the fouton and set off with the intent to make granola and only granola. Once the granola was mixed and in the oven, I decided to finish the one project I promised myself I would do before this little one came, yet had somehow put off until I 5 days overdue, go through my tupperware. It never fails that a lid gets lost or a container gets lost, leaving you with seemingly tons of tupperware, but none that matches. I purged the cupboard, stirring my granola every 10 minutes. As our apartment filled with the aroma of baking I realized my craving wasn't met...and instantly knew the only thing that would fill this craving...Grandma Phyllis' whole wheat bread!

As we speak the bread is rising and my craving is fulfilled. While mixing up the bread I realized how long it had actually been since I had made homemade bread. It has been at least 3 years, if not 5+! This bread carries lots and lots of memories, so realizing that I had not made it in over 3 years brought a mix of emotions. Sadness that I had not taken the time to make homemade bread and joy that I was given time to do so before my life changes forever. Disclaimer: Part of the reason I haven't made this bread in so long is I honestly haven't figured out how to let it rise without a wood stove. I grew up in a home with wood heat, along with a wood cookstove. This is the only way I know how to effectively get bread to rise.
In 4-H this bread earned me a blue ribbon and was selected to be entered at the State Fair. Moreover, the memories that flooded back while I kneaded the dough were very sweet memories. This was my grandma's recipe, but I do not ever remember making it with my grandmother. This was a recipe that my mother introduced to me...and with whom I share these very sweet memories. My mother is the one who taught me how to proof the yeast, mix in the right amount of flour before ever turning it out to knead, and most importantly how to knead the dough. Kneading is my favorite part, punching down the dough after it has doubled comes in a close second.

I feel like kneading is an art, I know, now I'm a total dork...but hear me out. Kneading isn't merely the act of mixing the remaining flour into the bread, it also allows you to literally feel the dough and get your hands a little dirty. Kneading the dough is the only way to truly know when to stop adding flour. I feel privilaged to know how to properly knead bread and even more privilaged to have had a mother who took time to teach me this art.
As I kneaded the dough I thought back to sharing this act with my mother and began to realize, more than ever, how it was the little things in our everyday life that my mother used to teach all 4 of us girls to be the woman God created us to be. She taught us patience, kindness, love, and how to find joy in the simple things of life, like kneading bread.

As motherhood becomes more and more of a reality for me, I realize a desire for my children to someday "rise up and call me blessed" as verse 28 of Proverbs 31 states. As this desire brews in my heart, the desire to continually let my mother know that she is blessed grows stronger yet.

Mom, this is for you. You are blessed, in the sight of your daughters, your husband, your peers, but most importantly in the sight of God, our Lord and Savior. He finds you more blessed than all of us combined and has chosen you to bless all of our lives. Thank you for blessing us, and for teaching us to be a blessing, even while kneading bread!
I love you!