Perfectly imperfect.

I have spent the majority of our relationship trying to cook as well as my mom-in-law.
A lofty goal, if you've ever eaten at her table :)
I have made some quite, shall we say, memorable meals, and some have actually been pretty good. However, I cannot bake. No matter how hard I try, I cannot make sweets like everyone else can. Casseroles, scrumptious. English roast dinners, perfect. But baking? Not a chance.
Well my mum's birthday was on Tuesday, and since this is the first birthday we have spent together since 2000, I set out to make it as perfect for her as I could. I splurged on presents, I had flowers sent to her during her seminar, I arranged a surprise birthday party, and I decided to make her a cake. Not just any cake, a pumpkin-shaped cake, complete with vines and flowers, straight out of the magazine with the word "easy" in the title. So I called up my mom-in-law, and asked her if she had a fluted bundt pan and ever-obliging, she told me she'd leave one on the counter for me at the house. As I was getting ready to leave, she called again to tell me that I could keep the pan, she kept it so it wouldn't be sent to the DI after Grandma Hale had passed away, that she knew one of her kids would appreciate it when the time came.
I have always loved Grandma Hale, and treasure the lessons and kindness she showed me, so when Mom said I could have that pan, I cried. 'Cause I cry at everything :) Needless to say, I felt Grandma's presence as I prepared that cake. The house was so still, so quiet, and I felt the Spirit so strongly in my home that afternoon. So instead of trying to make a perfect cake, I made a cake for my Mum, who I knew would think it was perfect even if it wasn't. This silly pumpkin cake was made with so much love, that it just didn't matter that the icing wasn't smooth, or that the shell-shaped thingies were just little blobs. It was my first cake, and it was for my Mum. So in the end, it was perfect to me.