Finding My Stride

What Does That Even Mean

I have been thinking a lot lately about the phrase “finding my stride,” and if I am being honest, I am not entirely sure what it means.

It sounds like something we arrive at. A place where things settle, where the path becomes clear, where we finally feel steady in the direction we are moving.

But life has not shown me that.

Life moves, and just when we think we have found our footing, something shifts. A challenge, a loss, a moment we did not see coming, and suddenly we feel off course from what we thought we were building.

And it leaves me wondering…

Are we ever really off course at all?

The Course We Thought We Were On

There are so many things that shape the path we think we are on.

Loss.
Grief.
Unexpected turns that ask more of us than we feel prepared to give.

There are seasons that feel like they take us away from where we thought we were going, seasons that interrupt our plans and rearrange what we believed to be certain.

And yet, when I sit with it, I have to ask myself a harder question.

Was I ever fully in control of that direction to begin with?

Or was I following something shaped by my own expectations, my own ideas of how life should unfold?

There is a quiet tension there between ego and purpose.

Between what I think my life should look like and what it is actually becoming.

What Found Me Instead

Because if I look at my life honestly, sourdough did not come from a plan.

It found me.

In a season that asked me to slow down. In a season that required me to sit with discomfort, to be present, to let go of control in ways I had not practiced before.

And what I thought was just bread became something more.

It became a place to return to.

A rhythm that steadied me.

A reminder that not everything needs to be forced in order to grow.

Stepping Into the Unknown

Which brings me to yesterday.

My second Farmers Market.

I found myself questioning everything in the days leading up to it.

How much should I make.
What should I bring.
Would people respond to new offerings like jalapeño cheddar and seeded loaves.

This is not a restaurant where people order from a menu.

I set the menu.

And then I stand behind the table and trust that what I have made will be received.

There is a vulnerability in that.

A quiet wondering if what I am offering will meet the moment.

The Surprise of It All

Last weekend, I sold out.

An amazing surprise.

But this weekend felt different.

Last week was Mother’s Day and graduation for our local college. The town was full. There were visitors from everywhere. Arizona, Florida, North Carolina, and so many others. It felt like a moment that might not repeat itself.

So I wondered.

Would people come back.

What Actually Happened

And then something happened that I did not expect.

People came back.

And not only did they come back, they brought others with them.

Friends.
Family.
People they wanted to share this with.

There was a moment when a mother who had won a Mother’s Day raffle basket, one that included a beeswax bread bag I had donated, returned with two friends who each purchased bags of their own.

I nearly cried.

I stood there for a moment thinking…

Is this really happening.

What is happening here.

Because this felt like something more than a transaction.

It felt like something being shared.

What the Numbers Cannot Measure

I left the market with five regular loaves remaining.

Out of everything I brought.

Sixty four regular loaves.
Seventy two English muffins.
Eight baguettes.
Eighteen sandwich loaves.
Eight seeded.
Eight jalapeño cheddar.

Twenty five beeswax bread bags.

And I came home with five.

I was still selling at noon when I was meant to begin breaking down my booth, and if I had been allowed to stay, I would have continued.

The numbers matter.

But they are not the whole story.

Maybe This Is the Stride

So here I am, the day after my second market, already thinking about next Saturday.

Planning.
Adjusting.
Trying to listen more closely to what is unfolding.

And I find myself returning to that phrase again.

Finding my stride.

But maybe it is not about arriving at something steady and unchanging.

Maybe it is about learning how to move with what comes.

To trust that even when things shift, even when the path looks different than I imagined, I am not lost.

I am being led.

What I Am Learning Now

My work now is not to control every outcome.

It is to trust.

To plan with intention, but not from fear.

To pay attention to what is evolving rather than holding too tightly to what I think should happen.

To lean into my faith.

To trust God.
To trust myself.
To trust the process.

Still Becoming

Because maybe finding my stride is not a destination.

Maybe it is this.

Standing in the middle of something that is growing, something that is changing, something that is asking me to stretch.

And choosing to stay.

Choosing to trust.

Choosing to keep going.

Even when I do not have all the answers.

Warmly,
Kathy
Art of The Crumb