Hold us in all this uncertainty.
I got up early the other morning to make challah for my dear friend Sue who is going through very aggressive cancer treatments. The window over my kneading counter faces northeast, and I noticed the first light creeping over the neighborhood shadows. Morning was coming. I lit a candle, then stirred the yeast into a little bowl of warm water to proof. It’s the yeast’s breath that pushes against the heavy glop of grains and liquids, creating space and lightness, making bread instead of crackers. It’s wondrous, and worthy of a moment of gratitude.
I gathered eggs, oil, flour, sugar, and salt in my beloved bread bowl. As I added the proofed yeast and more flour, thoughts, worries, and feelings flitted through me: for my friend Sue, for Steve—longtime friend and youth staffer—who died last week, for his daughters whom I’ve known and loved almost forever, for my Meeting’s ongoing witnessing against hatred and oppression ... so much grief and worry. Minute by minute, while I rhythmically kneaded the dough, I tried to focus on simply surrounding dear ones in Light. When the dough became full and alive, filling the palms of my hands, I rounded it into a ball and stopped. I cupped my hands around the sides, savoring the feel of the dough. Like the dawn, and the yeast, in that moment Spirit rose—along with the day’s prayer: Hold us in all this uncertainty.
I have always thought about and experienced being held in the Light as being the Divine’s loving energy surrounding us, healing, comforting, and holding us upright. But as I nestled the dough into the oiled bowl to rise, I thought about the yeast’s exhale pushing against the rest of the dough, creating spaces, yes, but also shouldering some of the weight. The yeast’s breath literally helps hold the dough up.
What if the Divine, like the yeast’s breathing, holds some of the weight of the world, of our lives, off our hearts? What if we are also held in air-pockets of Light from within?
Those air-pockets may be the seemingly small moments in a day that lighten us: a glimpse of the sunrise, a quote that suddenly grounds us, the laughter that bubbles in us while watching a toddler exuberantly laugh, the peace that descends however briefly in worship, feelings of gratitude, hope, connection. None of these “fix” things, but they often shift our loads, especially when they feel like gifted moments, like inexplicable grace.
The image of yeast’s breath helping to lift up the bread is reassuring that even the smallest acts of kindness or care are helpful. What can we offer? What can we take in? How can we help to create more spaciousness for air-pockets of Light to hold all of us from within amidst all this uncertainty?
With love and hope,
Gretchen