Just as it does with everyone else, the time change punked me this morning. I was wide awake at 4, which is actually 5. Since I had the extra time, I decided to get up and try a new bread recipe, even though I've never been good at bread. I can bake just about everything else, but bread is a skill that still eludes me.
Once I had all the ingredients mixed together, in the stipulate order and at the stipulated temperatures, I started in on the seemingly-endless process of kneading. I set a timer for a guesstimation of minutes for kneading and started the rhythmic, back and forth, side-to-side pound and sway.
The thing about bread-making is that it requires patience and just the right baking conditions. One does not just decide to bake bread; one plans to make bread. In other words, one does not just wake up and say, "I want to bake fresh bread for breakfast." The only ways in which that statement can be true is if A) one gets up at like 3 am, or B) one gets in his/her car and drives to the bakery to purchase a fresh loaf. In bread-making, there is a plan, and it is a plan that unfolds after several steps and the passage of time.
Likewise, baking conditions count. If the liquid is too cold, the yeast won't activate. If the liquid is to hot, it kills the yeast. Too much flour, and the loaf becomes a brick. No salt, and it lacks flavor. If the room is too cold, the loaf won't prove. And then, there is the arduous process of kneading.
Kneading has to happen in order in order for bread to happen. Kneading consists of rolling, punching, twisting, and turning the dough for several minutes. If s/he didn't know better, a passing observer might think that the baker is angry, given the seemingly violent action. But kneading makes sure that all the ingredients in the bread get evenly distributed. Kneading makes sure that all the ingredients have been exposed to a consistent, warm temperature (from the hands that knead the dough). Kneading traps the little air bubbles that are necessary to create the dance between gluten and yeast that makes a loaf rise. Thus, kneading is necessary; the elusive question is how long to knead the dough.
This is where the second round of magic happens. A baker has to pay attention during the kneading process, because the question of length of kneading is based on texture - how it feels in the baker's hands. A properly-kneaded loaf will feel smooth and elastic. It's easily stretched and leaves a slight impression, almost like a finger to a cushion. A baker does a fair amount of watching in order to gauge this, but truly, the best way to know enough is enough is by feel.
Why the bread lesson? Well, it's not about bread at all. Not really.
While kneading, I had several minutes in which to ponder.
Once upon a time, across history eras and geographical locations, bread was life. Other than meat, it was the only available food, and when meat wasn't available, it was what kept people alive. A hobo, who had been interviewed for The Great Shake-Up, a documentary on the 1930s on the History Channel, reported that after asking for some food, a lady told him all she had was bread, to which he replied, "Bread would taste like cake." So in a very real, physical sense, bread is life.
Bread is also life in the metaphorical sense. Bread-making requires time and patience. One does not get to fast-forward to the end. S/he has to follow the process, one step at a time. Likewise, all the necessary ingredients must be there in order for the dough to become a loaf. By themselves, salt and yeast won't make a loaf. The other ingredients are necessary. The same is true in life. Happiness alone does not lead to a quality loaf. Neither do sadness and hardship. They are all necessary in order for the loaf to become what it was intended to be.
And then there is the kneading process. In life, we often feel as though we are beat up - we are rolled up in situations we didn't ask for; we are punched - sometimes by situations and words of our own making, and sometimes by being in the wrong place at the wrong time; our words and intentions get twisted; and we get turned around, disoriented by life's curveballs. When we are in the middle of it, we not only ask "Why?" but "How long will this last?"
I think you already the answer to that question.
The Baker knows what He is doing. He knows exactly the ingredients needed - and the quantity of each - in order for us to become the end product we were destined to be. He has the knowledge, skills and wisdom to add them in just the right order, and at just the right time. The same is true for kneading. He knows exactly for how long the process must continue. In walking on earth and being one of us for a while, He is well-acquainted, even more so than us, as to the texture of "enough" - He knows what it feels like. When we are in the process, we just need to trust that the Baker knows best.
Will my loaf turn out this time? Time will tell. It's still processing.
Will the Baker's loaf turn out? IF you trust the Baker and let the Him do His thing, you already know the answer to that question.
