March 11, 2017
“Six cups of flour,” I reminded myself. “Two tablespoons yeast. 1 teaspoon salt. 1 Tablespoon sugar.”
I stirred to mix these together, blending the individual ingredients. I had neglected to buy ready-made dough to make stromboli for our group of five families that get together every second Saturday of the month. We have been gathering as families for well over a decade but have all been friends for about 25 years. We alternate houses each month, whoever is hosting provides the main dish while everyone else brings a side or drinks.
I needed to make my own dough today, done at the last minute due to a variety of reasons. This recipe actually came from one of these dear friends. It is now my go-to for bread you make all in one day.
While I was mixing, my computer played Mumford & Sons on Pandora.
“In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your life
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
And where you invest your love, you invest your life”
Thoughts of this past week took over my brain while I stirred in 2 and a 1/2 cups of hot water and 2 TBSPs olive oil to the messy mix. Staying over at my in-laws to help with care, being at the ER waiting for a battery of tests, hearing not so great results from the first two months of chemo treatments.
“Awake my soul, awake my soul
Awake my soul
For you were made to meet your maker
Awake my soul, awake my soul
Awake my soul
For you were made to meet your maker
You were made to meet your maker”
Now I needed to knead this craggy mess. I had done what I could while it was in the bowl. I liberally sprinkled more flour onto the counter and unceremoniously dumped the whole lot on the prepared surface.
“Spare me your judgments and spare me your dreams
‘Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams
I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind
Alone in the wind and the rain you left me
It’s getting dark darling, too dark to see
And I’m on my knees, and your faith in shreds, it seems”
More thoughts of CT Scans, blood tests, X-Rays, nurses and phlebotomists and techs. My spiritual mentor of a father-in-law on a hospital bed awaiting results. My mother-in-law by his side, healing from her own injuries, holding his hand.
I gathered the mess into a pile and began pressing it with my palms, pushing it this way and that, pulling it from the front to the back, shoving my palms and then my knuckles to make this lumpy mess into a smooth ball of deliciously elastic goodness.
No progress in the last two months in shrinking cancer. In fact, the metastasized tumor in the liver has grown in size.
“Oh I will hold on
I will hold on hope
Oh I will hold on
I will hold on hope
Oh I will hold on
I will hold on hope
I will hold on
I will hold on hope
I will hold on
I will hold on”
Now this dough had to sit. It needed to sit and rise. In an hour, doing seemingly nothing, the soon-to-be bread would almost double in size. And so I waited. And waited some more.
A new chemo regime is now in place. This new drug will hopefully shrink what the first one did not.
“I begged you to hear me, there’s more than flesh and bones
Let the dead bury their dead, they will come out in droves
But take the spade from my hands and fill in the holes you’ve made”
My in-laws are no longer just in-laws. They have become dear to me as my own parents, the promise and truth of vows of commitment and love having fleshed out into bigger family.
I glanced at the clock. Not long until my friends were coming over to break bread together, share fellowship, continue to share bits and pieces that look like snippets but add up to life.
Punch down that dough. Shape it into the form I want it to become. Wait again, another 30 minutes or so.
“Plant your hope with good seeds
Don’t cover yourself with thistle and weeds
Rain down, rain down on me.”
And now I wait. I wait for the bread to finish rising. I wait for my friends to surround me and help to lift me beyond the darkness. I wait for the chemo to do what it can but even if it cannot, I remember another song by Mumford & Sons:
“But hold on to what you believe in the light
When the darkness has robbed you of all your sight
So hold on to what you believed in the light.”
Soon, after the dough has been in the oven at a high temperature of 400 degrees F for roughly an hour, we will take part and eat, and share goodness and mercy and strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.
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