The welcome aroma of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies sweetly assaulted my nose as I entered the house after a long day in the office. I reached for a warm and soft cookie, at the risk of spoiling my dinner appetite, but before my hand could make contact with its intended target, my lovely wife slapped my hand away.
“Those are not for you,” she insisted.
I couldn’t fathom a scenario that could include warm cookies, made by my sweetheart, that I was not allowed to sample. “Who are they for,” I stammered.
“They’re for the Browns.”
The Browns were in our ward. My Compassionate Service Leader wife frequently made whole meals, or arranged babysitting, or coordinated other service efforts for members of the ward with specific needs, but I’d never known of a family who needed only cookies. I pressed, “What’s going on with the Browns that they need cookies?” I was confident that I was about to receive some insight that would make everything suddenly right.
“I don’t know. I just felt like they could use some cookies.” My wife was so serious in her reply that I was instantly confused. This was not a joke. The cookies were not for me, and I had no idea what had just happened.
Some time later, I arrived home from work on a Friday date night. A row of canning jars were on the table. Each had a ribbon tied around the neck and held a cluster of freshly cut black-eyed Susans. “Cool flowers,” I announced. “Who are they for?”
“I don’t know.” The recent memory of a slapped-away hand and some unshared cookies seemed unrelated, and then my wife then asked me a question that I wasn’t prepared for: “Who should we take flowers to?”
The question seemed random, but the image of my home teaching family instantly popped into my head. For some reason I was afraid to admit the thought I had. I pretended I hadn’t felt anything.
She asked again; “Who should we take flowers to?”
I weakly answered, “I don’t know.”
She thought for a few seconds and said, “Let’s take some over to your home teaching family.”
We did, and we “accidentally” stumbled into a wonderful opportunity to serve my home teaching family.
A few days later, the Browns called and thanked my wife. “Those cookies were exactly what we needed.”
While I was serving as Seminary teacher, I had a few extra slices of chocolate cake. Not remembering my experience with the cookies or the flowers, I thought about my students, one by one. Suddenly, one student’s name stuck in my mind. I went to his house to share some cake.
We had a wonderful visit, and I gained some valuable feedback as a teacher. But more importantly, I realized that the Spirit had directed me there. The cake just gave me an excuse to show up. The visit had nothing to do with chocolate cake and everything to do with an opportunity to minister to the One. My student told me later of the impact that visit had on him.
I slowly began recognizing a pattern by which the Spirit spoke to me. With cookies, flowers, and chocolate cake. It had nothing to do with the cake and everything to do with the One. I started asking myself, Who needs chocolate cake?”
Every time I ask, I get an answer. Every time I make a visit with a portion of chocolate cake, I feel edified. Occasionally, I learn that my visit was even a blessing to someone.
The pattern works consistently. One Sunday afternoon after making cake I called my Elders Quorum president and asked him who in his quorum needs chocolate cake.
He had an instant reply. “David needs chocolate cake.”
“I’ll be by in 15 minutes, and we’ll deliver cake to David.”
David wasn’t home. That’s sometimes the case, and I asked what other quorum member needed cake. The president had another brother in mind, and we shared some cake with him. For fun, we texted David and chided him for being away from home and missing our sweet visit.
His text message reply instantly humbled me: “Thanks so much for thinking of me. I finally feel like I have friends in the ward.”
Chocolate cake is spiritual. So is zucchini bread, and cinnamon rolls, and apple pie. So is anything else you feel prompted to share. If you ask Heavenly Father who you know who needs chocolate cake, He will answer. Act on the prompting, and you will undoubtedly bless lives.
I used to share chocolate cake because I had more than I could eat myself. I accidentally learned that the Spirit will direct me to share cake with those who need it when I ask. And occasionally, I have learned that I was at the right place at the right time to be an answer to someone’s prayer.
King Benjamin’s message has never sounded sweeter. If serving others is serving God, I can serve my Heavenly Father by sharing chocolate cake.
I love this!