I bake brownies from a box – occasionally. At Thanksgiving, my pumpkin pie will come from the freezer section of the grocery store. Or, possibly from the bakery so I don’t even have to warm it. And yet, my soul is completely soothed these days by watching an episode of The Great British Baking Show. So, if the baking isn’t drawing me, why do I watch? Here are three reasons:
The setting is so gorgeous. It’s like Disneyland inside that tent with violet cabinets, blue refrigerators, and pink mixers. Everything feels gentle and subdued, even with all the stress. And, it takes place in a party tent, for goodness sake. I might bake if my kitchen was all pastels under a tent. Although mine would have air-conditioning.
Nobody has airbrushed these bakers. It is a come-as-you-are competition. Grandmothers, college students, architects, stay-home-mothers, gardeners, and somebody’s dad. Everybody shows up in their real clothes, with their real teeth, and their own hair or lack thereof. These people make us believe that dreams are possible, even for those of us who don’t have Hollywood veneers in our smile.
These folks can do amazing things with eggs, flour, and butter. I will never sculpt the Eifel Tower from bread dough nor make twelve identical chocolate molten mini-cakes. But watching a grandmother of eight pull off a challenge like that pushes me to create the things that are mine to do. Like books. And stories. Articles and blog posts. Letters to the grandchildren, emails to my mother, love letters to my man. And that creativity connects me to The Creator of All Things.
In the end, I love this show because it reminds me what I want my work and my life to accomplish:
Point to God