This week was my biggest giveaway yet.  I baked 4 loaves but then needed to outsource baguettes (still haven’t perfected that yet!) as well as other boules.  It was a lot of bread.  Late last week I got a call from a friend of my husband whose dear friend’s father had passed away and they were going to be having tons of family post-memorial service and needed some help arranging food to provide a backdrop for the important work of providing comfort and sharing memories.  Saying yes was easy.

After a few traded emails and texts, we had a good outline of a plan and the scope of the project.  And I got to work.  Tuesday night I put together my doughs.  I wanted to make a rosemary raisin as well as my wild yeast country bread (recipe coming soon!).   We were putting together basically a big cheese board, so the bread needed to go with a variety of meats, cheeses, and spreads, and it needed to be good of course.

This was my first attempt at baking four loaves in a day, and it went surprisingly well.  I was able to time the loaves around getting other things done, and when they finally came out of the oven, I headed out to meet the family, with warm bread in tow.  I must confess, I was a little nervous.  Meeting someone for the very first time under such sad circumstances can be tough after all.

As I drove through the countryside to get to the house, I was thinking about the family.  I didn’t know much about the man that they had lost, but I knew he loved cherry pie and that his family was preparing to say goodbye.  And no matter what, goodbyes are hard.

As I dropped off the food and talked through the plan, I met this man’s daughter who was an utter delight.  She was charming and kind and appreciative on the eve of what no doubt would be a very hard day for her.   As we unloaded the food and filled the refrigerator, we talked about her father a bit, and her mother.  She told me they had been devoted to each other for fifty years.  We talked about how sometimes things happen fast, and even in the midst of tragedy, kids still graduate from middle school or college, and life continues on, and the world continues to turn.  She told me from the voice of experience that even in the middle of grief, you have to soldier on.

Soon enough it was time to head out, and I hugged this amazing daughter and wished her well tomorrow.  My mind was humming on the drive home, but one of those quiet hummings where you are suddenly very present in the moment.  I think proximity to grief and the somber events in life can really do that.  For the first time that week, I realized I wasn’t planning what the next thing I would do was.  I was just in that moment.  No next to do list.  No racing from one thing to the next.  It didn’t hurt that the drive home was absolutely breathtaking.  It was that magic hour right at sunset when the light is warm and glorious and the fields and vineyards with oak trees were magnificent.

My part of the story ends there.  I headed back to my life, and the family retreated to go about the business of celebrating their father’s life.  For me, I was thankful God and my little project had allowed me to meet an amazing woman I wouldn’t have otherwise, thankful that I was able to bake bread and provide food as a backdrop to this previously unknown family’s grief, and thankful that I was driving on a beautiful road at sunset.  I couldn’t help but feel that I was right where I was supposed to be.