A Tale of Two Cakes

         

            Last Friday night, I made a cake from scratch. I don’t even remember the last time I did such a thing. I love cooking and baking, and I do love cake, but I’ve never been great at cakes. It’s not so much the baking of cakes that finds me struggling as the finishing of cakes. I’m not a decorator. I’ve taken some classes in cookie and cupcake decorating, and my skills were…lacking. It always looks like a first grader did it. (If that, maybe.)

            But with the cold, gray new year upon us, a proper, homemade chocolate cake felt like the contribution we should make to our small group dinner for Saturday night. I had low expectations of the experience. I used a recipe I’d never seen before, relying on Pinterest to not be a liar about it being the best recipe. I knew it wouldn’t be pretty, but pretty wasn’t my goal. I wanted something tasty, filling, and cozy for this little group assembling for fellowship.

            So I crawled (literally) on hands and knees to reach to the very back of the big cabinet beside the stove to retrieve the round cake pans I haven’t used in years. I traced the bottoms and cut out parchment paper circles to place in the bottom. I pulled out Miss Mixy and followed the (truly easy!) recipe for the homemade chocolate cake.

            I loved every minute of putting that cake together. I know I could have gotten a box mix, but for me, there is something comforting and sweet about putting together a cake from scratch. I poured the batter in the pans, slid them into the oven, and a half hour later, the house smelled heavenly and two fully baked cakes sat on potholders on top of the stove.

            They came right out of the pans without breaking and I wrapped them up to keep them fresh and safe overnight.

            Saturday afternoon I moved Miss Mixy back to the countertop again and pulled out all the ingredients to make the frosting. It was, perhaps, a little thinner than it should have been, but it looked so delicious, and I began applying it to the top and sides of the stacked layers.

            The end result? Not that pretty. Kind of lumpy. A little misshapen. Obviously not created by a trained professional, or even a decent amateur. But goodness, did it ever look delicious! I pushed it to the back of the stove to keep it safe from Lexi (and to keep Lexi safe from it), and as I cleaned up the kitchen, I listened to a Marco Polo message from my friend Abagail.

            She caught me up on the happenings of her week, and along the way, she said, “Oh hey! I saw on Instagram that you baked a cake last night!” (I had posted a photo of the unfrosted cakes as they sat cooling on the counter.) She continued, “That’s so fun! I baked a chocolate cake too this weekend – it’s an order for a birthday party. I think it’s so great that we were both baking chocolate cakes at the same time!”

            I must pause to tell you that Abagail went to culinary school. If she lived here and could move in with me and be my full-time chef, I would let her. She is talented beyond words in MANY departments, and cooking and baking (and decorating) are high on that list. I adore everything she ever makes. So I had to giggle when I heard her say that it was so fun that we were doing the same thing, because I can assure you we were NOT doing the same thing. The similarities ended with the words “chocolate cake.”

            That evening, as Ryan and I pulled out of the driveway to head to small group, I had my cake plate snuggled securely in my lap, loosely covered with foil. That lumpy, misshapen cake sat inside, and even though it was not even close to pretty, I was really excited to share it with our friends, because it had achieved what I wanted it to: it was cozy and, well, hopefully tasty.

            We were less than 50 feet from our house when Abagail’s photo of her cake for the birthday party popped up on my Instagram feed.

Photo Credit: Abagail

            I burst out laughing and laughed so hard that I couldn’t breathe, and actual tears ran all the way through my freshly applied makeup. Ryan asked what was so funny, and I turned the phone so he could see her cake.

            There it was, described as a turtle-heath cake with a homemade toffee buttercream, homemade caramel sauce layer, and toasted pecans and chopped heath pieces between each layer.

            Indeed, we did NOT do the same thing that weekend.

            (By the way – I know a lot of cakes that look this pretty might look nice but taste dry and flavorless. I can assure you that is never the case for her, and this cake tasted every bit as good as – if not better than – it looks.)

            I sent Abagail a text of my sad-looking cake and said, “Oh, Abagail, I love you so much, and it means everything to me that you think we did the same thing this weekend, but we did NOT. Your cake is lovely, and it is far superior to mine. But thank you for loving my attempt as genuinely as I know you do.”

            And that’s the truth! ALL of you can see that her cake beat mine in every way, but she truly and genuinely celebrated my attempt to make a cake. She was excited that we shared our love of baking at the same time – even though the results varied widely.

            Other than providing a good laugh, why am I telling you this?

            I tell you because we live in this world of comparisons. We stifle what we can do because it is not as good as what someone else can do. And when we do that, we fail in using the gifts God has given us. I walked into our friends’ house Saturday night, put my cake on their island, and told them this whole story, passing around the picture of Abagail’s cake as I laughed and shared.

            And our friend Jonathan said, “I like your cake better. You know why? It’s in my kitchen.”

            It’s true! Abagail’s cake was perfect for the party it served. But my cake was perfect for a night of friendship around a fireplace. It was half gone by the time the night was over, and no one complained at all about its taste. (I think most even had seconds.)

            If I had allowed myself to be embarrassed by my skills and their inferiority to Abagail’s, well, small group still would have had dessert, because someone else brought ice cream, but it wouldn’t have been the same. It wouldn’t have been cake AND ice cream. Everyone knows those two things are meant to be enjoyed together.

            And truthfully, part of the reason why I stood by my lumpy little cake was because Abagail did celebrate it with me. She is really and truly that kind and sweet.

            So in whatever skills you have that you compare to those around you…don’t let that comparison keep you from using the gifts you have. If you stifle them, you rob those who could enjoy their benefits of the pleasure of doing just that. And if you’re in a boat with others who are doing what you do – and you do it better – don’t let your pride get the best of you. Celebrate and support them in doing what they can do to the best of their abilities. And do that genuinely! It might not make any difference to you, but it could make all the difference to them.

            Our efforts may not look the same, but when we employ them, we double the number of people who can benefit from the goodness!