Two years ago Jimmy bought this handmade cutting board from my nephew Ben. A contractor and woodcrafter, Ben builds houses and additions that always exceed expectations. But his passion is creating beautiful things from fine wood that he often planes himself from the original logs.
When Jimmy brought home this piece made of walnut and maple, we said we’d give it to someone as a special gift that Christmas. I put it in a safe place on the second floor of Mom’s house, along with the beeswax we were to use to condition it.
Somehow it never left us. We’d intended to give it away but never found the right person or time.
For about a nanosecond we considered using it. But you don’t slap slimy boneless chicken breasts onto something this beautiful, slice them and leave marks. God no!
So there it remained in my brothers’ old bedroom, covered with a pillowcase, next to a clothes basket full of t-shirts.
Until last week when I was up there putting things into a newly cleaned closet. There was the cutting board, still in the pillowcase, but now it was on the floor.
Well, that’s just wrong.
My reverence for this one-of-a-kind piece had actually backfired and landed it on the dusty floor of a room that had become a catch all.
It was that moment that I decided the cutting board was staying with us and would be used. I just didn’t yet know how.
It made me wonder. Why don’t we use beautiful things?
What are we afraid of? Do we just assume we will mar the beauty or destroy a unique, precious or generational item in our clumsiness? Do we think we’re somehow not worthy of fine things?
Decades ago I got really good at baking loaves of rustic, crusty bread in a Rumford beehive oven which I had in my first house. I love baking bread and have wanted to find a way to bake it authentically in a conventional oven. So I’ve been saving recipes for Dutch oven breads to a Pinterest board for the last year or so.
This week I made a couple of loaves, and it worked. The crust was golden and light. The bread itself was at once airy and hearty. We sliced it while it was warm, slathered it with butter and savored it at the kitchen table, knowing we’d just started something wonderful.
The only thing missing was a proper bread board on which to work the dough.
Ta da. Glad we saved it.
This weekend I used Ben’s cutting board to shape a loaf of bread, and it was perfect. A handmade piece to make handmade bread. It just felt right.
Here’s what this all told me: Use the beautiful thing. Use it now.
Use it with reverence, if you like. Take your time and savor it. Hold it up to the light and admire it. But use it. You’re worth it.
After all, our time here on earth is short. What are we waiting for?
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