Mise en place, Mixing and Transformation

Reflection on the first week of Lent

This is the first weekly essay in a series of six for Lent. During this season I’m going through Kendall Vanderslice’s book, “Bake & Pray: Liturgies & Recipes for Baking Bread as a Spiritual Practice,” and sharing with you my reflections, mistakes and joys. Thank you for joining.

Dear friends,

I hope this finds you well. Winter is hanging on for it’s dear life over here. My neighbor still has her Christmas lights on her house, and I finally took our paper snowflakes down from our living room window. My trusty little daffodils are blooming around the base of our Dogwood though. During a break between the hail and rain yesterday, I caught a sunny patch and collected dead leaves despite the crocuses coming through.

This lesson or, I like to think of it as an intention, for this past week was on Mixing, Flour and Transformation. It’s a good thing

Kendall Vanderslice

suggests taking at least a week to meditate on each theme. Transformation is nothing if not long. But for now, let’s just talk about it within a span of one week.

Nothing is ready

I have the bad habit of not checking my cupboards, fridge or pantry before I set out to make something. I can get so focused on the thing that I want, it’s almost like I’d rather not know if I’m missing something and just find out along the way. Isn’t that horrible? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started baking or cooking something that is time sensitive and have had to stop mid-way. So much waste and extra time and energy spent.

First things first: Mise en place (everything in it’s place).

Mixing bowl. Measuring cups. Teaspoon. Pyrex liquid measuring glass. Flours. Salt. Water. Yeast.

Yeast. Kendall calls for instant yeast, instead of active yeast. A few days back I notice the expiration date on my yeast in the fridge: 05/23. That went in the garbage. I buy new yeast from the store, and excited to get started and having everything in it’s place, that’s when I noticed my mishap. I spend way too much time seeing if I can substitute active yeast for instant yeast but in the process doubt google’s calculations and my own brain and say forget it.

That’s when I left my active yeast proofing on the counter according to marthastewartdotcom, and came home to this:

my little alien

I had forgotten I left it on the counter while running to the store to grab instant yeast.

This is shaping up to be not very instant at all.

Ok, back to mise en place. Kendall knows what she’s doing when she says to meditate on this breath prayer during this stage:

INHALE: We are being transformed

EXHALE: into God’s image.

2 Corinthians 3:18

I shake my head at the timing. Nothing was in it’s place. Nothing was ready. I had to prepare. All of those technical little details that my brain likes to ignore but in reality they are here to help us. Of course we don’t really figure this out until we’re halfway through something and eating crow.

Transformation happens when the story affects you. And this story that I decided to immerse myself in until the good Lord rises from the dead was already having it’s way.

Negation

This first week of Lent feels like I just took off my warm puffy jacket and now I’m fully aware that I don’t have it. There’s this feeling of…is it loss? No, more like vulnerability. I’m more vulnerable without my creature comforts of Instagram and amazon. The other day, I jotted down some things I’ve noticed since not being on Instagram. ( A few of you might have seen it on Notes). It was more than a few things.

My need for approval

My house is really cluttered

Cobwebs

Children who need my presence

A meal to prepare undistracted

My joy in baking and cooking

Enjoyment in a meal

Less whiplash

More focus

Less anger

Less anxiety

Neighbors who walk their dogs past my kitchen window

More energy for vision and long term tasks

A wider emotional window of tolerance

Intention on how I receive the news

More patience with myself and others

Greater awareness of what I want

Letting my yes be my yes, and my no, no.

A quieter spirit

Less conflict in my mind

Greater capacity for conflict in the present moment

Greater capacity for social gatherings

Less FOMO

How much I miss a good meme.

I know there is a balance in there somewhere. But for now, I know it’s good for me to only check the Gram on Sundays until Easter. I really appreciate the wisdom fellow Substacker and writer

Lore Wilbert

shared recently about learning how to use the tool of Instagram instead of letting it use you. You can read more about that here:

The One Thing that Changed My Social Media Usage

I love the quiet without the voyeurism of reading everyone else’s thoughts and feelings about xyz. I don’t want to live my life from a place of fear that says I have everything to lose. I want to live it from a place of love and freedom because I can lose much and still be okay.

The poet, Abigail Carroll, in her poem entitled “Letter to Saint Francis,” reminds me that my quick fixes don’t have much to say, and maybe I could even lose a few more:

"When you broke with the world, you gave up jerkins and boots
(Italian leather, no less),

the title to your name. In light of your example, I hereby forsake
(not wanting to duplicate)

the paisley, polarized shades I have anted to buy for some months
(now on sale at Rite Aid),

plans for a new voile spread and matching shams--you see, my room
(unaltered in years),

is begging for a complete re-do. In addition, I forthwith happy resign
(and with only a little shame)

my ignorance of bird songs, apathy toward insects, and above all else
(no simple task)

my solemn right to complain -- about the weather, fractures, vacuuming,
(the Lord gives)

or the sudden need for new axels, a change of plans, someone to love
(the Lord takes away).

I'd also like to swear off phones, hornets, gas stations, the news,
(and, while I'm at it)

the banality of prose. When it comes to relinquishing clothes, I can
(most definitely)

do without nylons and heels, and that black bridesmaid shawl I prized
(but never wore),

which has hung in my closet for years. Abandoning these worldly goods
( I sincerely trust)

will also mean the giving up of dust in all its forms: dandruff, worry, shame,
(bathtub residues)--

In truth, Francis, there are many things I'd like to lose. 

One core reason why I’m on this endeavor is to ask myself the question, “what does it mean to be me?” Frederick Buechner mirrors this question with,

“Jesus went off alone into the wilderness where he spent forty days asking himself the question what it meant to be Jesus.”

So, in Lent, we are given the invitation to find out what it means to be ourselves.

I don’t like that I started relying on Amazon for instant purchases. I’ll never think of it the same way after seeing Nomadland. When Ben and I were chatting about it, we noticed that we’ve been bypassing a crucial discernment step between the idea of wanting/needing (fill in the blank), and purchasing the item.

In it’s stead, we started a good old fashioned notebook, and jot down the need or want that would be so great to have right this instant. Having a place for it to sit for awhile is helpful. Giving ourselves the chance to save some money and remind ourselves we’re not all that powerful just because we can benefit from a corporation that I have conflicted feelings about.

And now I have the chance to find out a little more about myself. A little more about how I’m being transformed.

my kitchen sink in the afternoon

Truth be told, this week has pushed me beyond my human limits. I’ve tried both morning and evening to mix the dough before it has it’s long rest, and I think I like the evening better. It feels more settling. Quieter. I like making that step into a prayer practice as I pull the dry ingredients into the tepid water, turning and folding, over and over. (And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. From his fullness we have received grace upon grace. John 1:14,16). It turns out my life is very full. Brimming over daily like the active yeast that I left on my counter. Have I been looking for fullness elsewhere? And in noticing my life overflowing when I turn and give it my full attention, I’m shocked by the actual look of things. (What is that??)

But here the Lord has met me, and here is His fullness giving grace upon grace. Here is the starting point, for what else does He have to work with than our own lives? Our own stories? What else is there to write about? I know there is plenty, but I think I need to learn how to write and move from my here and now, trusting that the action will flow out of that center of grace. For as the anonymous monk wrote to his student in The Cloud of Unknowing:

“God will always provide one of two things (without your help): either an abundance of what you need or the physical stamina and spiritual patience to endure its absence. What does it matter what we have? It’s all one to the true contemplative.”

Is He not gracious enough for us to sit at His feet? For there is much work to be done.

---

For week two, the lesson is “On Temperature and Control.”

I can already here Julia Michael’s song, “Issues” playing in my head.

Actually, better yet, I started making a playlist for this Lenten long haul. It’s helpful for me to find songs about what it means to be a person, with a few songs from God’s perspective to give us some breathing room. I’d love to hear from you any songs that help you through Lent. It’d be fun to add them to the list!

Have any of you been baking this past week? What is the “having everything in it’s place” process for you? What’s transformation like for you? I’d love to hear in the comments if you’d like to share.

Until next week, grace to you.

Janell