Ugly, Lovely Pies

My mother makes amazing pies. Her mother ran a bakery, both of them worked in it, and both of them learned the art of baking...very well.

People have learned that if they get an invitation to a meal at my parents' house, dessert will probably include a pie option, and it will be good. {And pretty.}

Ryan and I had lunch there Sunday, along with my sister, and when the table was cleared and the stack of dessert plates appeared...not only was there pie...there was strawberry pie. One of my all time favorites. My mouth waters just typing about it.

Mom served up slices of pie...bright red berries held together by that delicious glaze, and topped with whipped cream. And I joked to Ryan that in my new life...I can make pies for him!

I say I joked about it...because you remember my all-day pie making attempt from gallternity leave, right?

But all day Sunday, I thought about that pie we had at Mom and Dad's, and I knew I had to give it a shot. So Monday morning, I hopped on Pinterest and found a pie crust recipe that called for ingredients I already had in the house. I stirred and patted and rolled and poked and baked the empty shell...and well...it wasn't much to look at.

I'd been lucky to get it to cover the bottom and sides of the pan. No room for pretty edges or pretty anything, really. The broken, jagged sides offered no promise of awards or a future of carrying on the family tradition of a bakery career.

It was ugly.

I crossed my fingers and hoped that deliciousness buried itself in the ugliness.

I went to the store and bought strawberries to make the filling...and that afternoon, I stood over the stove, stirring the glaze and folding in the sliced berries.

I slid it into the fridge and grabbed my phone to text Ryan and tell him a surprise awaited him. I wondered if I should really build it up like that because...well, you see the pie.

But I did anyway.

After we drove home from dinner with my sister and parents, I made him stand in the kitchen with his eyes closed, and I brought the pie out of hiding.

He looked right over that ugly crust and met my eyes...and said I hoped that's what the surprise was going to be!

I confess that the pie is now ENTIRELY gone. {It was a small pan.} And it was far more tasty than it was pretty.

But I learned a little something in that pie-making. There was a Bekah of old who would have made an ugly pie and hidden it or thrown it away because it wasn't good enough. Wasn't perfect enough. Wasn't up to the caliber of what someone else could have done. Wasn't a gift worth giving

I'm so glad the Lord has worked on my heart to bring me out of being that Bekah. No, that pie would not have won a single 4-H award. No, it would not have secured any job for me in a bakery. It was an ugly pie. But it was a pie made with much love for the man I love. And I gave that gift to him in love, and he received it the same way.

I'm thankful for that. Thankful for the freedom to give imperfect gifts and to know they'll be received with joy because he sees the love and heart I put into making them.

I'm sure I'll work on my pie-making and it'll get better. And there's also a good chance I'm just not my mom when it comes to pie making. Either way - it's okay. Either way, it's a joy to give a labor of love to my love. And I appreciate the joy he offers in receiving it!