It was the first thing I saw when I arrived at my MIL's house-- Marie Calender sitting right in front of me. Her pretty little computer made up face taking a steamy pumpkin pie right out of the oven -- ON A BOX! Pie does not come in a box (unless you are pregnant craving sweets and your husband runs to the store at 9 p.m.). Pie comes from the heart. Especially on Thanksgiving Day - pie is sacred.
Now, I have to give Grandmom a little credit. She did deliver on her promise to bring pumpkin pie. A pie that I wanted so badly to make from scratch. A pie that would rival the apple pie that I was carrying. A pie that I wanted to top with homemade whipped cream and eat until my eyes bulged out. Didn't happen. I don't eat boxed pie on Thanksgiving. And to tell you the truth the more I saw the box, the angrier I became.
I was so upset about the pie that I could not get it off my mind. So Sunday night, I baked -- I baked with a vengeance. Little did I know that God was watching me, waiting to remind me to do everything out of love.
I set the pie in the oven not realizing that cheese had melted all over the bottom from the Thanksgiving Mac n Cheese. The house begin to fill with smoke very quickly - like 4 alarm fire smoke. We had to open all the windows in the middle of a rain storm. Determined, I took the pie out of the oven, wiped the entire thing down, and started again. Still smoke, but after a bit it cleared. In about an hour - it was done and I was happy. I put the pie on the porch to clear while I fed the family.
At 9 p.m. I made the whipped cream, cut myself a pie of the beloved pie. I bit in with delight, only to spit it out. I was so fixated on the pie making that I forgot to put sugar!
So no pie later, a house that smells like melted cheese, but a lesson well learned. Yes Lord, I hear you. Bake from the heart - a loving heart. Got it.
