Do you ever have a day where you wish for a reset button to appear so you can start the day again?
Do you ever start wishing for that button before you leave the house?
This morning I tried to make a cake for a retirement party. It came out looking more like brownies than a cake, but hey, who doesn't love a good brownie? Of course, if it's that flat, it may be too dense to taste good.
I decided to take a little nibble out of the top. After all, I would be flipping it out, so the top would become the bottom and no one would know. And if it didn't taste good, I would spare my coworkers.
It tasted...good enough. So I let it cool for a bit and did my ironing.
At go time, I turned it out onto a serving plate. Correction. I turned out half of the cake. The other half glommed stubbornly to the pan.
Maybe I could just put it back in the pan? Nope, it looked rough.
First off, I love baking things, so I am always bummed when a goodie fails. Second, I really like my coworker and wanted her to feel special. Hence, the desire for a reset button so I could scurry to the store in my pjs and buy six eggs and some vegetable oil.
Now late, I grabbed all my stuff and darted out the door.
And then, I inhaled. The air had the rain-cleaned scent. One part wet grass, one part damp earth, one part life. I love that smell. It's like a reminder that all things are renewable. More specifically, that I am new in Christ each day. Each moment. One breath, and I'm new.
I got my reset.
Thank you, Lord, for renewal, for rain, for the scents you planted so liberally that awaken my heart. Thank you that April got a cake anyway, and that its raining now, so tomorrow I'll get to smell the newness again.