What a Crumbled Cake and a Broken Bottle of Wine Taught Me about Faith

“There’s a treasure hidden in every moment. The joy of life is finding it.”

Katrina Meyer

I’ve not felt very spiritual lately. I’ve just felt busy.

The Easter season is supposed to be the culmination of the crux of the Gospel. The gloriously gory images of Passion Week fill our minds and churches every spring. But for me it’s been a lot of work, preparing for my little girl’s birthday, leading a new small group at our church, and keeping this house in order. It’s been much more about the culmination of a sometimes cluttered life than about the resurrection of Jesus from the dead.

Going into work early to help with an Easter egg hunt brought so much joy to sixty preschoolers, but it also meant the only time I prayed that day was when I tucked my four-year-old into bed at night. And does that mean I’ve somehow fallen short? In keeping my children alive and actively participating in their happiness, I didn’t devote an hour to my spiritual development. Or did I?

What separates the sacred from the mundane?

Spiritual moments aren’t just found in a “prayer closet” with lighted candles and worship music. I spent all day Good Friday at the park with friends and there isn’t much more that connects me back to the Source of Life than sunshine, the breeze against my skin, and the sound of laughing children.

I’m both a creative and a perfectionist. It’s quite a combination. Instead of ordering my daughter’s birthday cake from the bakery like other working moms, I spent time on Pinterest, searching for the perfect Minnie Mouse birthday cake. I’m also good in the kitchen–baking and cooking are my therapy–so you’ll understand my frustration when the first cake fell completely apart Friday night.

Saturday morning, I was off to the store to start over. The bottle of wine wasn’t in the recipe, but Mama needed to chill just a bit. Walking back into the kitchen to bake the second birthday cake of the weekend, I tripped over the birthday girl and dropped my brand-new bottle of my favorite wine. I sunk to the floor, along with the shattered bottle and my tears mixed with the wine. I was completely overwhelmed.

Once I regained my composure, I cleaned the floor, put the birthday girl down for a nap, made myself an iced coffee, and turned on Amos Lee’s “Simple Things”:

Well, I know it’s hard baby

Things get crooked and crossed

Sometimes it just gets so hard baby

I start feeling lost.

It’s just those simple things

That keep me holding on

It’s just those simple things

That keep me holding on

I can’t go back and right these wrongs

Oh, but those simple things keep me holding on.

I didn’t bow my head and plead with Our Father to fix my cluttered life. I didn’t open the Bible to the Psalms and meditate on streams of living water. I turned on my favorite tunes, took a deep breath, and baked my baby a cake. Because sometimes it’s not about sanctuary, it’s about completing the task before me. And my two-year-old doesn’t care nearly as much about my spirituality as she does about the white polka dots on her pink birthday cake.

So what separates the sacred from the mundane?

Do you find your Sunday separated from your Monday? Do you stop and acknowledge God’s presence–His goodness–in the busyness? I’m a Florida girl, born and raised. And I’m learning life isn’t just freshwater or saltwater. I am finding love, faith, and grace in the brackish waters of daily life.