Oh wow. The world has been heavy as of late. We are all collectively and individually wrestling with fear and isolation, sacrificing for the greater good, national identity, deep pain, and racial reckoning. Even squares of cloth or simple declarative statements about the value of life have gotten heavy as they become imbued with more meaning than ever before, and shockingly, fraught with division.

I have been almost completely silent this spring. It felt like the wrong time to celebrate making bread when people were lacking basic necessities. Similarly, the joys of a muffin do not really compare to the dissonance of knowing so many others are suffering, and have suffered unjustly, so aside from a few posts and a small black square on Instagram, Living Proofed went pretty quiet.

It was a bit humbling to not know what or how to speak into this moment. Words are generally my friends that I call on to make sense of the emotions and thoughts that swirl in my head. But the weight of the stakes almost drained the words from my very mind. What could I say that would be helpful? Who wants to hear about the joys of yeast, and hands in dough during this time? Even darker still, who I am to speak?

At first, it felt like a disquieting quiet, leaving me worried and anxious. But it hasn’t stayed that way. As of late, it has changed into something else. It has become a restorative quiet, a learning quiet, a storing up and shoring up quiet. It has become a purposeful, preparational quiet.

Quiet can be good, as I have learned. When you stop talking, it gives you time to be observational and intentional, time to expand your mind, time to reflect and solidify, and time to pray. However, at some point, the listening, the learning, the reflecting must lead to something, or it must for me. The time has come to move beyond just being quiet. It is time to give voice to my thoughts again, to be active, and to be engaged.

So for now, Living Proofed is ready to start doing, talking, and yes baking. Talking about bread, about deliveries, about small joys, about life, about service and purpose, and any old thing I can dream up or however and wherever the Spirit moves me. I will probably (continue to) say the wrong things or get it wrong from time to time. But I am going to suggest that trying to get it right, trying to do right, is more important than being right. A very wise friend and mentor once told me perfection is the enemy of progress. I refuse to not make progress as I seek to do as the Lord commands in Micah 6:8 “To act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

In accordance with more talking, I do have a little bit of personal news. I will be contributing to a new digital platform called Salt + Clay. It is a digital blog/platform/magazine/collective that celebrates “women who are using their unique talents to bring beauty and glorify the Maker from which these gifts originate. ”

My first blog post–Consider the Lilies–was just published, and it definitely falls in the category of “small joys.” The women behind the platform have amazing hearts. I am thrilled to be in such company and to be inspired by their faith and commitment. I encourage anyone to check out their blog, their first digital magazine just out in May, as well as follow them on Instagram.

Finally, I would be remiss if I let the opportunity pass to humbly suggest these Pecan Sticky Buns for the forthcoming Father’s Day holiday. I started making them several years ago to mark the occasion. I chose them because I wanted a classic go-to to celebrate with, but most importantly because the Dads in my life were and are crazy about sticky buns and pecans. Although my father is now gone, I still delight in sharing these and remembering how delighted he was when I gave him a pan.