Mistakes Were Made
Mistakes were made. Major cover-up and cleanup efforts required.
I am not a baker. But I do love a good chocolate cake—and I love the accolades when friends enjoy what I make. So when I saw a YouTube video of a beautiful chocolate cake, I thought, “How hard can it be?” Famous last words.
Cue the disasters:
Mixer mayhem. I turned the stand mixer on high while adding dry ingredients. Instead of a gentle blend, it erupted into a volcanic ash cloud—covering everything within a five-foot radius, including the dog’s crate.
Too much batter. The bowl overflowed, forcing me to split into two batches midstream.
Pan problems. The video pans were double the height of mine. Blind spot: it’s a tall cake!
Mount Vesuvius. The pans overflowed like a chocolate volcano. Thankfully my wife had the foresight to put aluminum foil on the lower rack.
Ash cloud, round two. Caution went out the window, cocoa powder billowed again like volcanic fallout, coating the kitchen—followed by a lighter snowfall of powdered sugar.
Missing ingredient. Only after the cakes were in the oven did I realize I had forgotten to add the chocolate chips. Too late—skip it.
Frosting fail. With only a butter knife in hand, I attempted to smooth frosting. It spread unevenly, proving why bakers use offset spatulas or bench scrapers.
Fudge wall. The cream cheese buttercream set up like a layer of fudge, refusing to budge. “No problem,” I thought. “The ganache will cover it.”
Ganache tsunami. And it did—ganache everywhere. Fortunately, I had set the cake on a wire rack over a sheet pan.
By the end, the kitchen looked like it had survived a volcanic eruption, and the cake was far from Pinterest-perfect. But here’s the surprising thing: it was delicious. And that, after all, was the real goal.
From Cake to Calling
Somewhere between the volcanic ash of cocoa powder and the fudge wall of frosting, it hit me: life often feels the same way. We set out with good intentions, only to find ourselves cleaning up messes, improvising fixes, and wondering if the end result will be worth it.
Yet just like that cake, God can take the imperfections of our lives and still use them for their true purpose.
Lessons Learned
More than a sack of flour. Don’t let labels define you. I’m not a baker, but that cake was delicious. I’m not a professional writer, but here I am writing. Too often we say, “I have ADHD so I can’t be successful” or “I’m diabetic so I can’t enjoy life.” But we are more than our labels—God shapes something far greater out of the ingredients of our lives.
Add a pinch of grace. Cakes aren’t perfect, and neither are we. A little grace—toward ourselves and others—makes the difference between failure and learning, between frustration and joy.
From Pinterest to purpose. What may start as a dream of picture-perfect presentation often becomes something far richer: serving others. That cake wasn’t about impressing strangers online—it was about blessing friends gathered around the table.
Sometimes it’s my flaws that God uses most. As Scripture reminds us: “In my weakness, He is shown strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Closing
Life, like baking, will always include mistakes. But those mistakes don’t define us. They can become the very place where God teaches us to reset expectations, refocus on His grace, and rise into our true purpose.