Do you eat cupcakes on sunny days?
I wrote about my cupcake adventures in DC, and to recount them briefly, by flavor and location, they look like this:
fresh peanut butter cup and red velvet, at Red Velvet (Gallery Place/Chinatown)
pretty bitchin' (peanut butter and fudge), fresh lemon & raspberry, and pumpkin spice, at Baked & Wired (Jefferson Ave, Georgetown)
apple caramel, pb fudge, at Georgetown Cupcakes (M St, Georgetown)
pink lemonade, at Hello! Cupcake (Dupont Circle)
blood orange dreamsicle, at Lavender Moon Cupcakery (Old Town Alexandria)
And I still dream and remember and adore those cupcakes. And I wrote to you all about the need to stop counting calories and instead remember that, in my own DC-infused words, "Food creates memories; calories create anxiety." So today, as a dear friend from that same semester and I strolled through Newburyport, the sun beaming down on us and our brief but beautiful reunion, we ate cupcakes.
Hers was M&M with chocolate drizzle; mine was lime with raspberry filling and key lime buttercream. We sat looking out at the harbor and our talk meandered through the afternoon as we sat there, dangling our feet, resting our busy and weary bodies, soaking up each other's presence.
Do you eat cupcakes on sunny days? Do you feed your heart with what it needs, time to be still and to laugh, to be comforted and challenged in the presence of someone you love? Have you paused today to lick frosting off of your palm and laugh at what a mess you're making, or to carefully fold up the empty wrapper like a piece of origami before throwing it away? Have you carved out a bit of time to eat a cupcake on a sunny day by the water?
There are moments when I think about my semester in the brick streets and corner cafés and office buildings of our nation's capital and I wish myself back there. There are moments when everything here feels like waiting, and nothing here feels like harvest. Where the soil seems shallow and rocky and dry and distracted, and I'm too busy and too overwhelmed and too frustrated and too impatient to bear witness to anything beautiful. There are moments when I look up from my desk at work and wonder when the time will come to see the fruit that I keep being told is growing.
And as our priest said in her sermon today, "God does the deep work when things are difficult." God grows the best fruit in soil that endures, that waits, that hopes and perseveres. God grows things in us that we can't hear unless we are listening for the still, small voice to speak. God brings life and light out of what we do not think matters. And if we trust, especially when it feels impossible, when the voices in our heads tell us it will never work, we will never become...
God will make miracles appear like the stargazer lilies that blossomed when you weren't watching.
And today, while I ate cupcakes and thought about God, while I wandered through Newburyport and wondered about all the questions in my heart and all the doubts about my future, I remembered that I already see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. I remembered that I see Him growing trust, and patience, and prayer in me. I remembered that joy is gift, and it is ours to receive if we will make space in ourselves.
Eat cupcakes with me, on this sunny day, and let's revel in the deep work that he's doing.
And if you are craving the best flavors I can think of?
1. Blueberry & Lemon
2. Key Lime Pie (with graham cracker crust on the bottom and a key lime curd in the middle)
3. Peanut Butter & Jelly
4. Pink Grapefruit & Honey
5. Apple Pie
Love, from my cupcake-adoring heart,