Last night the delicate scent of warm apple bread filled our home. The savory fragrance confirmed that fall is indeed here. As the dough began to rise and the edges turned a tawny brown I thought about the fact that I was baking.
You see, in the last five months, we’ve lived in four different homes. We moved from our (1) home in the Middle East this past May, stopped by some (2) temporary housing in Alabama and then into (3) transitional housing in North Carolina and, finally, landed in our (4) new home 6 weeks ago. Each stop was an incredible blessing and a gracious gift from God, but for many different reasons we never truly felt settled. Each time we moved into a new home we only unpacked the necessities because we knew it was just a brief stop in the journey. And when you’re only making brief stops along the way- you never really feel settled.
Last night I took mixing bowls out of the cabinet. I pulled a rubber spatula from the drawer. I plugged in my Kitchen Aide mixer and watched it gently fold the batter.
As I sliced the warm bread I realized this was the first time I had baked in months. It may sound strange but baking is something I only have time for when life feels settled and our family is in a good routine. Of course, I can throw a simple dinner together and feed the guys but baking takes time- it’s more careful and methodical.
When my heart is at peace, I bake. When I have the freedom to linger, I bake. When I want to create something with my hands to serve another…I bake.
I sliced the fresh bread and wrapped in it parchment to take to our new neighbors. As I walked out the back door and headed across the grass my heart was flooded with joy. I’m so thankful for this new season. It feels good to be settled. And I’m incredibly grateful to be “home.”