The Freedom of Forgiveness

What Sourdough Has Taught Me About Forgiveness

There are some lessons that arrive all at once.

And others that come slowly…
quietly…
over time.

Forgiveness has been that kind of lesson for me.

The Weight We Carry

There was a time in my life when I carried more than I realized.

Resentment.
Hurt.
Unanswered questions.
Moments I replayed over and over, trying to understand…trying to make sense of things that didn’t always make sense.

And if I’m being honest, some of that weight wasn’t just about others.

It was about myself.

The things I wished I had done differently.
The things I would have said differently.
The ways I felt I had fallen short.

Sobriety was the beginning of seeing that clearly.

It asked me to sit with truth.
Not avoid it.
Not soften it.
But face it.

And in that process, I began to understand something I hadn’t fully grasped before:

You cannot carry everything forward and still expect to be free.

Grace, Given and Received

There is a phrase that has stayed close to my heart:

“My grace is sufficient for you.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

For a long time, I understood grace as something given to others.

Patience.
Compassion.
Understanding.

But I struggled to extend that same grace to myself.

I held onto mistakes.
Replayed them.
Measured myself against them.

And slowly, through faith, through sobriety, and through the quiet work of this journey, something began to shift.

Grace is not earned.

It is given.

Freely.

And if I am willing to receive it…
then I must also be willing to offer it.

To others.

And to myself.

What the Dough Teaches

Sourdough has a way of teaching me things I didn’t know I needed to learn.

You cannot rush it.
You cannot force it.
You cannot undo a step once it’s been taken.

If something goes wrong, you adjust.

You begin again.

You learn.

And over time, you stop seeing mistakes as something to punish…
and start seeing them as something to understand.

There have been loaves that didn’t rise.

Loaves that I overworked.
Loaves that I didn’t give enough time.

And yet…

I keep baking.

I don’t stand in the kitchen condemning myself for what didn’t turn out.

I simply begin again.

And somewhere in that repetition, I began to ask myself:

Why is it easier to offer patience to the dough…
than it is to offer it to myself?

The Freedom in Letting Go

Forgiveness is not forgetting.

It is not saying something didn’t matter.

It is not pretending there wasn’t pain.

Forgiveness is release.

It is choosing not to carry what no longer belongs in your life forward.

It is loosening your grip on what you cannot change.

It is trusting that holding onto resentment will not repair what has been broken.

But letting go…

might allow something new to grow.

A Community That Reflects It Back

One of the most unexpected gifts of this journey has been the sourdough community.

A group of people who lead with encouragement instead of criticism.

Who respond with:

“That happened to me too.”
“Don’t give up.”
“Try again.”

There is so much grace in that.

And being surrounded by it has reminded me of something I needed to learn in a deeper way:

We are not meant to live under constant judgment.

Not from others.
And not from ourselves.

Grace makes room for growth.

Grace allows us to keep going.

Grace says:

You are still allowed to begin again.

Forgiveness as a Way of Living

I am still learning what forgiveness looks like in my life.

Some days it feels natural.

Other days it requires intention.

But I do know this:

There is freedom in it.

Freedom in releasing what I cannot change.
Freedom in offering grace where I once held tight.
Freedom in no longer measuring my worth against my past.

And maybe most importantly…

Freedom in understanding that I do not have to carry everything alone.

An Invitation

If you find yourself holding onto something—
something heavy, something unresolved, something that keeps returning—

I would gently offer this:

You don’t have to carry it forever.

There is another way.

A way that looks like grace.
A way that looks like letting go.
A way that looks like beginning again.

For me, that understanding has come slowly.

Through faith.
Through sobriety.
Through the quiet, steady rhythm of sourdough.

And somewhere along the way, I have come to see that forgiveness is not something we arrive at once.

It is something we practice.

Just like bread.

Warmly,
Kathy
Art of The Crumb