I wasn’t trying to be deep.
I was just trying to bake.
One sweet potato pie for my husband.
One for my brother-in-law who has been begging for one like it’s his spiritual gift.
I followed the recipe to the letter. Measured. Mixed. Poured.
And somehow… there was a full third pie.
Not a baker’s bite.
Not a “let me scrape the bowl and see what happens.”
A whole, mind-your-business, respectable third pie.
What makes this even better is this:
I hadn’t made a sweet potato pie in almost a year.
Not because I didn’t want to.
Not because I forgot how.
But because life was lifing — loudly — at almost every holiday when joy normally shows up wrapped in foil and tradition. Some seasons don’t leave room for extra, only endurance.
So when I finally baked again, I wasn’t expecting anything special.
Just two pies.
Just getting back to myself.
And still — there was extra.
I didn’t stretch the recipe.
I didn’t short the pies.
I didn’t hustle or improvise.
I simply did what was in front of me.
Later that day, the third pie didn’t wait for a plan.
Two of my teenage grandsons devoured it like it was made just for them — laughing, grabbing seconds, completely unaware they were standing in the quiet, perfect timing of God’s provision.
And that’s when it settled in.
Sometimes, provision doesn’t shout.
Sometimes grace shows up finished.
Sometimes, abundance waits patiently for us to notice.
I planned for two.
Grace planned for three.
“The Lord will open for you His good storehouse, the heavens, to bless all the work of your hands.”
— Deuteronomy 28:12
And this morning, with coffee in hand and crumbs on the counter, I’m reminded:
Even after long pauses, God’s timing is still generous.
Love, Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com 