This past summer, we took a family vacation to Milwaukee, consciously choosing a city within easy driving distance that was not Chicago. Milwaukee also boasts other benefits: sweet memories of trips past, cherished Milwaukee-based friends, our enthusiasm for a couple of particularly excellent donut shops, plus a current membership to the Milwaukee Art Museum. So away we went to beautiful Milwaukee, Wisconsin!
A Purple Door Ice Cream excursion.
Our family truly does enjoy traveling together — and at the same time, we all know that on each trip, we willingly enter into a kind of social experiment. Individually, we must practice speaking up — being clear about things we wish for our trip, things we’re willing to do, things we desire not to do, and then enter into negotiations to navigate our varying preferences. We spend a lot of effort finding the center of Venn diagrams on topics such as “where to eat” and “what time to leave the house” and “tolerance window for museum visits.” Now that the girls are older, we have more flexibility to fold independent activities into the mix instead of always depending on compromise. We have a lot of fun and we build a lot of memories — and we work for it. A joyfully democratic experience!
Cubs vs. Brewers at American Family Field. “Jon, let’s fix your shirt before we take this photo.”
These complex dynamics played out fully on our Milwaukee trip, offering us many chances to learn and love. Lucy and Rosie’s legal driving privileges and adult-ish confidence added new elements to the mix, prompting us to flex and adjust to allow for individual pursuits along with family adventures. We did quite well, finding ways to enjoy a visit to the Art Museum, a Cubs vs. Brewers baseball game, a dip in Lake Michigan, several bike rides, and lots of delicious meals. But my favorite experience by far was our visit to a beloved bookstore.
Who needs a swimsuit?
Downtown Books sits in the center of the city, a large, rambling used bookstore that we’ve all grown fond of on previous visits to Milwaukee. We didn’t manage the trip to Downtown Books until the last day of our vacation, when weather and inclination aligned with several free hours in the middle of the day. We hopped on our four bikes, wound our way down the lakefront path, and tumbled delightedly into the air-conditioned store. Once inside, everyone found their own special corner, each free to follow her own train of thought and interest.
I noticed a curious relief in myself, a sense of rest and peace. Everyone was content, including me. We were safe, we were together, and we were separate. We were in no rush. We were air-conditioned and hydrated. I took a deep breath and made a beeline for the cookbook aisle, emerging later with a pristine copy of Rose Levy Beranbaum’s The Bread Bible. All told, we spent two blissful hours wandering the aisles and finally left with a stack of a dozen books tucked into Jon’s sturdy bike basket.
A memorable dinner at Goodkind, served by our dear friend Maggie.
That trip took place nearly two months ago. Today, Lucy has resumed her studies at Wheaton College, Rosie’s senior year of high school is well underway, and we’re beginning to plan graduation celebrations for May 2026.
First day of senior year!
Curiously, I have seen no signs yet of the weepy, nostalgic, sentimental version of myself that was on full display when Lucy began her senior year of high school two years ago. I’m sure those tears will emerge in the coming months, but the situation feels entirely different now. Much less fraught, much more hopeful. I suspect that I’m learning answers to some questions I hadn’t articulated before:
I am learning that our family can retain our connectedness even without sharing the same residence.
I’m learning that my expressions of maternal love are more malleable and expansive than I had understood.
I’m learning that individual growth strengthens the love in our family.
And I’m learning that offering generous space for each person’s growth only builds trust between us.
When Jon and I drove Lucy back to Wheaton College on August 23, the experience could not have been more different from the previous year. Rosie, exhausted from her first week back at high school and secure in her sisterly relationship, stayed home to relax, fully blessed by her sibling. That morning while Lucy packed, I participated in an hour-long class session for my spiritual direction course, never once panicking over missing out on the final minutes of our elder daughter’s presence. Jon and I drove Lucy to Wheaton, helped rearrange her furniture, and departed within an hour as Lucy scooted off to a dinner meeting. I did not shed one tear, nor did I develop my tell-tale emotion-stuffing headache. The smooth transition felt like a small miracle.
First day of sophomore year!
The miracle, really, is acknowledging this period of peace in which each of us is growing uniquely and yet still connected. We’ve worked through our fair share of struggle: healing from my own childhood wounds, supporting our kids through their own anxieties, and grieving family losses — not to mention the current task of learning our part in shoring up American democracy. More struggle will surely come, and it’s hard to resist tumbling into foreboding joy, bracing myself against future troubles. But instead, I’m practicing gratitude, treasuring this time of relative peace, and disciplining myself to recognize our little glimpse of Psalm 23.6:
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life
And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
May it be so.
In front of North Point Lighthouse.
Tidbits
I’ve gone on a bread-baking frenzy over the past month, August heat be damned! Here are a few favorites from my experiments:
Baguettes. Inspired by the requests of my family members, I’m determined to recreate a crusty, European-style baguette in our home. It’s not easy, but after trying three recipes, I have improved my skills and developed opinions! Our goals include crackly crust, spacious open holes in the crumb, and that inimitable French baguette flavor. Go ahead, call us snobs — we dare you.
Baguette recipe from The Bread Bible. Three-and-a-half stars, but props to Rose Levy Beranbaum for getting me started on the technique. The finished product looked good and tasted nice, but not uniquely baguette-licious. It was also the most complicated recipe I tried, inspiring Jon to create a digital flowchart to help me organize steps that run over three days.
Classic baguettes from King Arthur Flour. Again, these were good (in what world is homemade bread not delicious?), but not quite what we were going for — the crumb too uniform, the crust too pale (although that was perhaps my own fault as I should have baked longer). The recipe took two days with moderate complexity.
Here is the King Arthur result — not quite the spacious texture I had hoped for, but still yummy!
Classic baguettes from New York Times Cooking. This Claire Saffitz recipe was the best so far, with a nice open crumb. Once again, I probably could have baked them longer, but this recipe was the most promising of those I’ve tried. Four stars. I am planning next to bake them using this specialized French bread flour … but since the recipe takes several hours over two days, I just haven’t gotten to it yet.
Gluten-free bread. I’ve been in discussion with our church leadership about baking bread for our monthly communion service. When Pastor Libby mused about a gluten-free bread that would allow all of our congregants to partake from a common loaf, I became very interested in this challenge. I hoped for a loaf that would taste good and, ideally, retain its deliciousness for at least 18 hours after baking.
Easy gluten-free bread from King Arthur. As a fresh loaf, this wasn’t bad — but the flavor degraded quickly and was unpleasant the next morning. I didn’t care for the oily/greasy crust and the odd tang from vinegar. Actually, I hope never to eat this bread again. No offense.
Gluten-free oatmeal bread from King Arthur. Five-stars! This was a winner, with a lovely flavor that remained delicious a full 24 hours after baking. I adjusted the baking instructions to mimic my usual technique for a boule (baked in a dutch oven, removing the lid halfway through) and this worked perfectly. I baked it the night before and cubed it for our communion loaf. Huzzah!
No-knead bread. I continue to make loaf after loaf of Kendall Vanderslice’s version of no-knead bread. I’ve memorized the recipe now, and even packed the ingredients for a writing retreat and baked a couple loaves for our meals. I’m really enjoying having this simple skill in my back pocket!
Do you have any good bread recipes that you want to share? Send them along!
Actually, I hope never to eat this bread again. No offense.
^So funny.
Loved this beautiful, wise post. Thank you.