Bread-making

Now that you have the background to my new life, it is time to begin my charting of this search for significance as a housewife.

Let me begin by telling you my self-pity and pride have been completely exposed these past few weeks. This awkward exposure is what has led me to my quest for purpose. I began with (and, eh, still wallow in more than I'd like to admit...ahem) feelings of displacement and injustice. "I have a masters degree and am certified to teach 4 subjects! I don't deserve to be a housewife!!",  "I don't fit in or belong here in South Georgia!", "All of my girls are in school and I have NOTHING to do."  And on and on goes the whining. You get the picture. Pure embarrassment to anyone.

After worrying myself into a pit of despair (and it didn't take long), I began to realize, with the help of friends and the Holy Spirit, that my focus has been all wrong. Instead of knit picking and focusing on what's bad, I needed to find something constructive to do with my time. And thus begins the bread-making....

I have always enjoyed cooking, much to the enjoyment and dismay (I like to be "creative"...) of my family. Being a newly wed with so many generous friends and family, I am pleased to announce that I now have a full collection of all the kitchen equipment I would ever need to open a small restaurant. At this point in the job search, I am not ruling that out... I ramble.

One of my favorite kitchen gifts is my Kitchen Aide mixer. What a delight to the homemaker's eyes! The morning after my refocusing, I decide to put my baby to work: I am going to make bread! I mean seriously, what do I have to lose except a few hours of wallowing. Not only am I making bread, but I am going to make whole wheat bread in south Georgia (I've always felt a need to prove my individuality...). As I pour the flour and water mixtures in this Kitchen Aide jewel, I am awed. It is hands-free! My biceps are pleased with this new addition to the kitchen.

The timer goes off and I retrieve my flour mixture from the mixer. Preparing to knead, my heart drops. The "dough" is like glue! "This is NOT what the picture looks like." The feeling of despair began creeping in...  "I can't even make bread. What is my purpose?!" At this point and entire hour of wallowing had been lost...tragic. After briefly contemplating scraping the whole thing, I realized the truth: what else was I going to do with my afternoon? Why not give a try? And I am so glad I did.

A few hours later, I nervously peeked into the oven. It was almost time for youth group and I was hoping to leave the house on a cherry note. It smelled like bread, it looked like bread, and now was the true test. I sliced a piece and a wave of relief washed over me. It tasted like bread!! I excitedly texted my husband (who was completely ignorant of  my adventure for the day) "The bread worked!." Generating no response, I naturally called my mother for approval. Begin a good woman, she was excited with me. I quickly sliced a piece to give my husband and left for church.

Proverbs 31:15- "She gets up while it is still dark and provides food for her family."
Part one of my role as a housewife: provide healthy meals for my family. But I'm not even gonna attempt to get up before dark. That'd be a bad day for everyone. :-D

While I am called to live in an area I am not familiar with, God is not asking me to change who I am. As my aunt wisely pointed out from Shakespeare, "To thine own self be true!" He made me with a passion to eat healthfully, and has thus provided the tools to do so. What a relief!