This photo was my morning text from Basden.
She is having a ball with her baking.
Papa, Corbin’s dad, got her hooked, as he’s been baking sourdough loaves and crackers and English muffins for several years now. Basden took some of Papa’s starter from his Angel Fire kitchen back to her Auburn apartment last spring. And while she picked up the sourdough process pretty quickly, I’ve overheard her insist on a “redo” to some of her early taste-testers. Basden spent the summer months filling our kitchen and our tummies with fresh loaves of bread and chocolate chip scones – often with a quick call or FaceTime for Papa’s sourdough tips. After long days of work, all she wanted was an empty kitchen with that sourdough starter and a hot oven. Now back in Auburn, she returns home after class or work to knead dough and bake, her therapy after the packed day.
Basden’s roommates tease that her instagram feed is primarily sourdough recipes. She bought a container the size of a small storage unit for her flour, and she goes through it. One entire kitchen cabinet is deemed the “”sourdough apparatus” cabinet, and her roomies are willing to put up with it as recipients of the fresh-baked bounty.
I love that Basden has found sourdough baking as a creative outlet, so critical in this season of classes and studies and college life. But I also love that she has a physical, hand-made gift to share with the people she lives life with.
When my kids were young, I encouraged them to write weekly thank you notes to anyone of their choosing. Like most disciplines in our family, this habit was kind of hit or miss. Many Monday mornings found our mailbox stuffed with a handful of little handwritten notes, and many weeks the habit paused from the weight of heavier obligations.
For so many reasons, I desired that weekly rhythm of expressing gratitude, but at the same time I felt sensitive of tyrannically enforcing a habit to the point of removing the joy. Eventually, my responsibility morphed to keeping each child stocked with personal stationary and stamps (Christmas stocking stuffers, Valentines gifts, etc), and I left it to them. As they grew older, instead of keeping tabs on who wrote what, I trusted that their hearts would be prompted as necessary.
So much of parenting requires that balance – teaching and reinforcing good habits, while simultaneously releasing to allow our kiddos to catch onto what is meaningful, aligned with their individual personalities and interests.
A few days ago I noticed an Amazon order to Basden’s apartment for baking boxes, baker’s twine and gift tags. She will typically put in her own credit card for her orders, but I took the time to make sure she’d used mine on this one. THIS is something I want to be a part of, contribute to. It’s hard to describe the happy momma moment of seeing that purchase, thinking of Basden discovering and honing an interest, a “therapy” as she calls it, and sharing a little love via sourdough. It’s a stretch to think of this as Basden’s version of a weekly thank you note, but it fills my heart that she’s sharing the work of her hands with someone she’s crossing paths with. I like to think she’s sharing a part of herself with love baked into each loaf and scone.
Thank you Lord ~ for Papa and Basden Joy and messy kitchens and freshly baked sourdough all the way in Auburn, Alabama. Your blessings upon blessings.