Baking

Into the Wilderness: Story 22

I’ve been baking cookies. Nine different kinds, to be exact. Snickerdoodles, Linzer tarts, pumpkin bars, fruitcake cookies, chocolate mint crunch, kourabiedes (a Greek version of snowball cookies), molasses, magic bars (condensed milk, coconut, chocolate chips), and Christmas Crack. I have only four people in my house and nine in my bubble. I haven’t baked like this in eight years. What’s up?

The never-ending lockdown is inspiring many of us to seek homebound activities to stave off boredom and gain a sense of normalcy. Surely, this is one reason I’ve joined the baking buzz- along with thousands of other Americans. But I’m also aware of another motive behind my domestic drive.

Holidays when Catina was in RTC were tough. As much as we tried to gain a sense of “normal” or merriment, we just couldn’t escape the harsh reality of our daughter away struggling with her issues. We were laser focused on her recovery. Energy for anything else- beyond working, sleeping, exercising and eating- just didn’t exist. Baking cookies- let alone preparing for the holidays at all- felt like climbing Mount Everest. I couldn’t do it.

But now, in the midst of a pandemic that has already upended usual plans, we are feeling a sense of home and togetherness that had been missing for several years. The comfort of a family together is like no other- and I know so many are feeling this loss right now with children in treatment, the loss of loved ones and pandemic restrictions. My heart goes out to all those suffering. When family is together, all feels right, at least with our microcosm of a family.

And so I am baking.

Baking has become a symbol of our renewed family. The entire process is a metaphor for the grueling healing process. Think about it: each ingredient in a recipe needs to be of good quality and measured in the right amount. Miss one and the cake doesn’t rise, the cookies don’t hold together, the chocolate seizes up. Bringing the ingredients together is a messy chore- digging them from cabinets, dusting off little used appliances, wiping down the counters for rolling dough, cleaning the dough from the crevices of the beater. Mistakes are easy. Skip one important step and the outcome can be ruined. But when done carefully, with precision, the results are wonderful.

That is healing. During our three years in wilderness and RTC, we messed up a lot of our ingredients. I sometimes wanted to just forget- why does it have to be this way? I wanted to cut corners- why do we have to talk about that awful memory again, and again, and again? I carried the heaviness of sorrow- the awful imagination of what should be or could have been was a weight I dragged with me.

In November, I wrote how important it is for parents with teens in treatment to reset their holidays, to let go and do- shock!- as little as you can. I still support my advice. In the midst of healing, you are aiming to get through with as much wholeness as possible.

But thankfully, one day you will be on the other side. You will wake up one morning and think- “hmmm, I’m going to make some cookies!” You’ll go to the kitchen, read through the recipe (or have Alexa do it for you. She’s been a great help for me!), pull out and measure the ingredients, assemble them in the right order, roll, shape, mold and put them in the oven to bake. You’ll take them out of oven and cool them on wire racks while the surgary smell of comfort wafts through your kitchen and up the stairs, pulling your teenagers from their rooms to ask, “what smells so good?” You will laugh and say, “I made cookies, want to try them?” Your teen will grab one or a handful, and you will lean against your kitchen counter watching with wonder, knowing you couldn’t have managed such a task a year ago and amazed at the incredible joy in such a simple moment.

There will come a day when you are on the other side of the long and painful work. This doesn’t mean healing is over. Healing is a lifelong journey; mastery is a rare and impossible achievement. But everything will come together just right for you and your family. Your heart will lighten. Your energy will grow.

Hold on to that belief, even in the darkest days. It will come. In the meantime, be kind to yourself, reset your expectations and find the flitting moment of joy in the journey you’re on.

Happy holidays to all! May 2021 bring everyone healing and blessings!