Perfect Perspective~

Weddings. Oh, yes, a wedding! That once in a lifetime event (one hopes at least) that every young girl dreams about her entire life…that climax to all teenage angst-ridden romantic longings of finding “the one!” The fairytale ending; The beginning of a new and exciting chapter in life; A tangible initiation into adulthood; A ceremony symbolizing newness, and the offering of hope to a couple embarking towards a bright future together. A W-E-D-D-I-N-G! Let us all please pause for one collective romantic ……* breathy sigh * (Were your eyes lifted heavenward, your heart all aflutter, and your hands clasped together as well? ….Kudos to you, then)~

Yes, weddings are a big deal. And at these weddings, most expect a beautiful and dramatic cake as one centerpiece of the event. This past week, yours truly was commissioned by a dear friend, for help in creating one of these said confections. And when I say “creating”…I really mean “constructing”…for this cake morphed into one monster mo’ fo! Literally seeming to come alive, (in the sense that it GREW, and GREW, and GREW in epic proportions, as we toiled over its triple-layered tiers!), by the time our little cake-monster fully developed into adulthood, I was quite ready for it to leave its nest of birth and fly far, far, far away…oh, very far…*at least until I had a full nights’ sleep!* …then maybe I would have more feeling of love for my sugared-spawn~ And that’s a big maybe…

Okay, maybe I jest at how stressful this endeavor was for my colleagues and me. And maybe, * I mean we are talking about me! * I may have embellished a few details to make your heart twinge ever so slightly more deeply. Guilty as charged J However, the fact does remain that we were, indeed, working under an immense amount of pressure in regards to being the bearers of the bride’s one and only wedding cake. There were to be pictures (insane amounts at that)…so many, in fact, that by the end of the evening the beautiful and blushing bride will feel as if her face is about to melt off, --her cheeks, most noticeably, will ache for want of rest…the ceaseless barrages of “And, SMILE!” bounding at her all evening from the frenzy of well-wishing photographers * professional and otherwise * ~ As well as pictures, there was to be the absolute adoration of the attendees to attain, * as well as the possible scorn and snobbery of the what I call the “Gucci-guests” to avoid * Yes, it was, indeed still a certified stress-inducing undertaking.

As we went through the process of making the cake, I realized intermittently that I would go through peaks and valleys of my emotional mountain. * What a crazy a** hike that is most days, my friends... and NOT one for the faint of heart, I assure you! * As we laid out the initial blueprint of the cake construction, I felt my heart starting to beat slightly faster…that old familiar bead of sweat began tickling and teasing my brow, in hopes I would let it escape down my cheek….yes, the two telltale buddies that herald the arrival of Andy’s overwhelm. * Valley one * I noticed this and staved off the approaching angst by being proactive and suggesting a list be made…order this chaos, yes please…haha, bastard buddies..you lose, and my beloved (oh how beloved!) control has been restored to the scene! * Peak one* Such continued the day, (peak to valley to peak) for a marathon stretch of well over twelve hours. After having painstakingly rolled fondant, measured layers, stacked and sealed seams, fluted flowers, piped icing, and aesthetically adorning all, (and, of course, making sure it was, indeed, colored to match) my friends and I were so exhausted. Applying the finishing touches, we surveyed our creation.

My eyes immediately went to the * what I know must be blatently obvious! * one stripe that was slightly off center. My friend Sharon was crouched closely to the bottom layer, convinced that the entire cake was crooked. “Was that flower supposed to be there?” “Did the bride want beads lining the edge, or would she hate these?” “Oh my Gawd! Is that a crack in the fondant?” Yes, I warned you the entire process had not entirely been a walk in the park! Our perfectionistic perusal continued as we microscopically went over the surface of the cake. Enter the third helper, BJ, who took one look from across the room and exclaimed with such affirmation and excitement: “AWESOME JOB GUYS! Looks great! ” I stopped, Sharon stopped…we looked at each other…we looked at BJ, weighing his intentions * yep, pure *.... and then we stepped back and took a second look.

What a beautiful cake it was--Made with love and the best intentions…filled with sweetness and infused with such hopes and blessings to a couple beginning their new life together. This cake, was indeed, perfect~

Served~

So I am baking a cake today. Ever since I can remember, I have had an intense affinity for marvelous creations of the sweet sort. Yes, I love to bake. I mean LOVE LOVE LOVE it. Cakes, pies, cookies, tarts, muffins, petit-poits, cupcakes—all things warm, lovely and filled with homemade goodness.

I’ve often been asked why exactly it is that I have such an extreme and fond affection for rockin’ out the oven. I never really knew the reason(s) myself until my college years. My freshman year (talk about a year filled with transition and emotional turmoil/ growth!), I got a job working in a small, little bakery. My baking and barista days at Magnolia remain my absolute favorite employment to this day. It was more than a paycheck to me. This job opened my eyes…and I began to see that my job * although deceptive to the common eye * was not merely being a menial baker working for 7 dollars an hour. No, instead I realized that I was a counselor, an artist, a designer, a caregiver, a comforter, a nurturer, a lover—and a HEALER. At this tiny bakery, in that small hidden corner of Southern Virginia, we did not sell pastries or sweets by the dozen—we served each customer love—“wrapped individually”—and “made to order”.

I witnessed every day, the simple miracle that was communion…the literal breaking of bread. By simply offering tangible baked goods…we supplied the catalyst that fostered community, that nourished physical bodies, and that fed hungry souls.

I am a visual thinker, so I’d love to paint a picture of what I mean. Welcome to Lynchburg, Virginia, ponopeople…you are now invited to the wonderful world of Magnolia’s.

Although we made an entire batch of muffins at 6am like clockwork every morning…you better believe that EACH customer that came in knew deep within their being that the baker REALLY secretly got up extra early in the morning just for THEM specifically to enjoy that fresh out of the oven offering…because, you know, “I DO come in every morning at the same exact time…and she knows just what I like”. * Yes, ME* J

And yes, I DO remember just what they like(d):

Johnny, the 56-year old retired architect, who rode around on his antique bike, knew that his cranberry orange muffin would be waiting for him at 6am sharp. Scowling as he would grab the sack, he would wait until he got outside and around the corner to take his first bite; a schoolboy grin of such satiety and joy spreading across his worry-wrinkled face *yeah, we saw you Johnny J *

Nona, the kind, soft-voiced woman, who was confined 99% of the days to her home and wheelchair, knew that her sweet tea and homemade “soup of the day” would be warm and ready for her when the hired transport brought her on their one outing of the day. When asked what type of soup she would like (there were always two)…the answer was always the same: With a widespread smile across her withered skin, she would lean close and whisper with childlike glee and anticipation: “Surprise me, dear…you’ve yet to disappoint!”

Linnette, the rotund single woman who was constantly on the latest fad diet (we knew because she heralded her “new plan for the new her” to us daily), would come in on her way home from work (she was a schoolteacher who truly loved her kids). She would shyly make her way up to the counter and order a “lil’ somethin’ sweet”. Because “she really shouldn’t.” This interchange always ended in Linnette being given a generous portion of her favorite treat of the day—handed to her with such care by familiar smiling faces--who really knew that what Linnette REALLY wanted * and maybe even “needed” that day * was a “BIG HONKIN’ SLAB of somethin’ sweet”….so we served Linnette her “sliver” and looked forward to her coming again.

These are just a few of the amazing patrons that I came to know and love during my time here. So many more come to mind, but I must be brief. Basically, I have learned that whatever it may be: An aging man’s momentary escape into childlike glee and joyful appreciation; A shut-ins brief vacation from her imprisonment—and the fellowship that follows; or a hurting woman’s outcry for grace and self-acceptance….we were able to supply---by, yes, simply baking~

Yes, I am baking a cake today. I long and ache to bake a cake today…because I want to serve someone today—and not just a slice of cake~