My bread can’t compare to these beauties of Ian’s.

Last night when I put another four quarts of peaches in the freezer (still working through those 40 kg!), I noticed we were nearly out of bread.

Ian is under a crunch of deadlines at work and is unlikely to take the Easter weekend off, and if he does, he has a huge DIY project underway at home, so there is no way he will be making bread this weekend. That leaves it up to me to fill the gap.

I’m always a bit nervous baking bread. I make a fine loaf, but I don’t have the practiced skill Ian has at bread. Imagine drawing a picture for Picasso—that’s a bit what it’s like to bake bread for Ian.

He is kind, and says nice things about my bread, gives me advice. We both know that putting up with my bread occasionally is part of what it means to live in our family. Just as sometimes he does the milking for me, we both take responsibility for just doing what needs to be done. We’ve tried to teach this to our children—the skill of walking into a situation, seeing what needs doing, and doing it without being asked. It is one of those skills that makes a person stand out as an employee, a roommate, a co-worker, and a friend. People who have this skill are the ones who walk into the kitchen at a party, see the pile of dishes in the sink, and wash them. They are the co-workers who empty the staff room dishwasher, the children who clear their plates from the dinner table, the students who tidy the classroom bookshelves as they look for something to read. We love these people. They make everyone’s lives better.

So I know it is okay that my loaves are not as beautiful or well-made as Ian’s. Part of being on this family team is sharing responsibilities, accepting help, and recognizing that we all need to pitch in and do what we can to keep the whole family operation running smoothly.