This week, I experienced my moment of glory. You know what I mean: that once-in-a-lifetime flash of total perfection and success. It is a moment I will cherish when I am old and gray, reminiscing about the high points of my life.
I baked a homemade apple pie, with fresh apples from my very own tree, and made homemade vanilla ice cream to go with it. Perfection, I’m telling you. Sheer and utter perfection.
The ice cream was ready just five minutes before I pulled the piping hot pie from the oven. The pie was bubbling, the mixture of sugar and cinnamon spilling over the sides of the pan, the scent of baked apples filling the air. My family stood around me, waiting anxiously for their slice of the heavenly creation.
And it was beautiful, let me tell you. So beautiful, I almost didn’t want to slice it. After all, you can’t have your pie and eat it, too. “Take a picture of it, Mom,” my daughter suggested, and I did. I’m thinking of enlarging it to poster size, then having it matted and framed. It was that beautiful.
Finally I did the honors, serving generous slices, topping each with the ice cream, watching it melt and run down the sides of the pie. I don’t know for sure what heaven will be like, but I’m pretty sure we got a little taste of it that night.
My family begged for seconds. Begged.
Now, in order to more fully appreciate the pride that filled me at this accomplishment, you’ve got to understand something. I’m no Martha Stewart. Not even close. As a matter of fact, Martha would probably be deeply insulted that her name is even associated with mine in this article. After all, I consider Hamburger Helper to be a gourmet meal. Macaroni and cheese – the boxed kind – is a staple in our home. And in my opinion, frozen dinners are like manna from heaven.
Martha Stewart, as a dear friend of mine pointed out, would not only have made homemade ice cream. She would have carved the ice cream maker herself, from oak she salvaged from her tree.
I didn’t even make my own piecrust. Mrs. Smith did.
Still, for me, it was a mountaintop experience. Mt. Everest, to be exact.
Now is the time that you’re expecting me to tie this experience to some important life application. But I have a confession to make. There is no moral to this story. No words of wisdom. I really just wanted to brag about my pie.
Then again, taking pride in ourselves isn’t always a bad thing. We should take the time to pat ourselves on the back every now and again, to say, “Well done.” After all, it’s often those little pats on the back that keep us motivated. And as long as we don’t over-do it on the ego thing, a little pride in ourselves and our accomplishments will help us stand a little straighter, work a little harder, smile a little longer. So I guess, after all, you really can have your pie and eat it too.
I did, anyway.
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men,” Colossians 3:23.