What Sourdough Has Taught Me About Problem Solving

The Way I Used to Move Through Things

There was a time in my life when I believed I had to solve everything.

Every problem.
Every challenge.
Every moment of loss or uncertainty.

I felt responsible for making sense of it all, for finding the answer, for taking something complicated and resolving it into something neat and understandable, something I could place on a shelf and move past.

Maybe it is part of how I was raised. Maybe it is part of my nature. Maybe it came from the roles I held as a wife and a mother, always trying to steady what felt unsteady, always trying to make things right.

But that way of moving through life was not working.

Not in the way I wanted to feel. Not in the way I wanted to live.

It did not bring me peace.

A Different Way of Meeting What Comes

Now, I find myself approaching things differently.

Not perfectly. Not every time. But differently.

I greet challenges much like I make sourdough.

With patience.
With time.
With gratitude.

Not rushing to solve.
Not forcing an outcome.
But allowing something to unfold.

There is a quiet shift in that.

A willingness to stay present instead of immediately trying to fix.

What Sourdough Has Taught Me

Sourdough has taught me more than I ever expected.

It has taught me about life. About who I am. About faith. About grief.

It has shown me that not everything needs to be controlled in order to be understood.

That time matters.
That process matters.
That some things can only become what they are meant to be if we are willing to let them.

It has taught me how to move through life in a way that feels more aligned with who I am becoming.

The Questions That Don’t Have Easy Answers

There are still questions.

Practical ones.

The price of flour is going up.
The cost of everything is shifting.

Do I raise my prices?
Do I limit what I offer?

These are real considerations. Real decisions that come with building something.

And yet, I find myself pausing here too.

Because for me, this has never been about money.

Not at its core.

What I Saw at the Table

Last week at the market, I noticed a woman who kept coming back to my table.

She wanted a seeded loaf.

I could see it.

But she did not have enough money to buy it.

So I gave it to her.

I told her it was my gift. I told her, “next time.”

Next time, you can pay me.

Tears filled her eyes.

And in that moment, something became very clear to me.

What Matters Most

This is not just about bread.

It is about people.

It is about connection.

It is about creating something that extends beyond the transaction and into something that feels human and real and shared.

I thought about my father.

The way he lived. The way he gave. The way people still speak about him, not for what he had, but for how he showed up for others.

That is what stays.

That is what matters.

And I can see now how much of that lives in me.

How much of that is guiding what I am building, even when I am not consciously thinking about it.

What I Am Choosing

So for now, I am choosing not to raise my prices.

Not because I am unaware of what is happening around me.

But because I am paying attention to what is happening within me.

I am choosing to trust that there is a way to build this that does not lose sight of why I started.

I am choosing to make space for community loaves at my table.

To give when it feels right.

To stay open.

Not Everything Needs to Be Solved

I am learning that not every problem needs to be solved immediately.

Some things need to be sat with.

Some things need time.

Some things reveal themselves slowly, in the same way a dough rises, in its own time, in its own way.

And maybe the answer is not always something we create.

Maybe sometimes it is something we are willing to receive.

Still Learning

I am still learning.

Still navigating.

Still finding my way through something that continues to evolve in ways I did not plan.

But I know this.

I do not need to have all the answers today.

I just need to stay present.

To keep showing up.

To trust what is being placed in front of me.

And to believe that there is something good unfolding…even when I cannot yet see the full shape of it.

Warmly,
Kathy
Art of The Crumb