It is important to me to share the sacredness of the simple and small in my classes. Pie fits that bill to a “T”.
Before we put hands in the bowl to cut the fat into the flour and salt, I invite students to think of why they are here, what and who is important to them. Perhaps there is a special intention or need that day.
Many who have taken the class have said that this small act meant the most to them.
In my own solitary practice, I’ve done this for decades…finding beauty and meaning in the simple “everyday”, whether it be in bread baking, sewing, gardening.
I could go on and on about this…anyway, when it feels right, we begin.
Last week two daughters and their mom came to class despite the fact that their dad was barely hanging on in a hospice.
“He’s already left us.”
“It’s so stressful waiting”.
I’ve been there. I’m sure many of you have been, too.
Even though their hearts were heavy, we made pie. We put dad in our bowls along with tears and memories. We filled the bowls with love of a life well lived. The evening just flew by; tears replaced by laughter and stories and when it was over, 3 beautiful pies sat on the counter steaming with love.
45 minutes later on the ferry heading home, I received an email from daughter, Bobbi.
Here’s what she said:
“…when we got to my home and walked in the door my husband was on the phone with the hospice where my Dad was… he had passed 5 minutes earlier. I think he was waiting for the pie.”
At that moment, I knew we had become more than friends. Pie made us family last night.