Perseverance

Inside of a ring or out, ain’t nothing wrong with going down. It’s staying down that’s wrong.

— Muhammad Ali

My husband bakes bread, though, technically speaking, he is not a baker. In fact he is the furthest thing from a baker; he is an attorney, and a damn good one at that, I might add. But I digress . . .

I have learned a great deal about the creative process from my husband’s forays into bread baking, such as the importance of: making time in your schedule to do what you love (at least two weekends a month we enjoy the wondrous aroma of homemade bread wafting through the house); preparing all of your ingredients before beginning (cue several mid-process runs to the “Little Safeway” with fingers crossed that it has active dry yeast on the shelf); spicing things up with variety (chocolate babka, fan rolls, pretzels, monkey bread, naan, pita bread, Italian bread sticks, sour dough bread — he makes them all); bringing the ones you love into the process, or at least those who are willing (and I don’t just mean willing to help eat his delicious creations). But what I have learned more than anything else from my husband’s bread baking devotion is perseverance. Merriam-Webster defines this noble characteristic as a “continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure or opposition.” I chose this particular word quite deliberately because of the latter part of the definition; my husband doggedly repeats the process of making bread no matter what complications arise, even if that complication is complete collapse (of the loaf, of course).

Let me paint a clearer picture of what I mean. The first time he baked Classic Italian Bread, he spent hours collecting the ingredients, mixing them just so, kneading the dough, letting it rise, kneading the dough again — you get the picture. As we all eagerly gathered around the oven to gaze in wonder at his magnificent masterpiece — the fruit of his loving labor — we were taken a bit aback when the loaf came out looking a little, well, let’s just say, um, deflated (sorry, hon).

“I’m sure it will be delicious, Dad,” the kids said supportively.

“Yes, dear,” I agreed, “I’m sure it will.”

He looked at us dubiously and slightly stricken. I shed an inward tear on my husband’s behalf, knowing how hard he had worked.

Now at this point I thought, “Darn! There goes my supply of fresh, homemade bread,” because honestly, had that been me, I would have given up right then and there. I would have ranted and raved about how I can’t believe after all of the effort I put into making my bread, it didn’t turn out, and how clearly I am not meant to bake, and I would have ended up with something along the lines of, “Well, I’m certainly never going to try that again!” Or maybe I would have taken another route and hearkened back to the great wisdom of my father who used to say, when I’d ask as a young girl if I could get my ears pierced, “Muffet! If the Lord had meant for you to have holes in your ears, He would have put holes in your ears!” and I would have come up with some concocted truism like, “Muffet! If the Lord had meant for you to bake bread, He would have helped you produce the perfect loaf the first time!” Anyway, you get the point — I probably would have quit. Isn’t that terrible? So, I naturally assumed that he would as well.

To my great surprise, however, that is not what he did. In fact, do you know what he said in that exact moment? Do you have any idea what words actually came out of that man’s mouth? He said, “Next weekend when I make this bread again, I’ll have to . . .”

Truthfully, I don’t remember what all he said because I didn’t really hear the rest. I was still stuck on the “when I make this bread again” part.

“You mean,” I asked incredulously, “you mean you’re going to keep trying?”

“Well, yeah. I really want to make it well.”

“Wow. You are amazing.”

I learned a very important lesson that day, one that vaguely existed in my brain as a common, collective wisdom; one that you hear all of the time, said in so many different ways — persistence pays off, don’t be afraid of failure, stay true to your dreams — but seeing it put into action, right in front of your eyes, in your very own kitchen, well, there is something pretty magical about that.

Thank you, honey, for teaching me and, more importantly, our children about the power of perseverance.

Photo by Agence Producteurs Locaux Damien Kühn on Unsplash