Up until yesterday it wouldn’t have occurred to me that prayer intersects with the taste buds at all. But now I can say with pretty firm confidence: prayer tastes like strawberry-apple pie.
I asked a friend to pray for me yesterday. There was something specific on my calendar, and I knew it was bigger than me, so I asked her to go with me through her prayers. And over the course of that hour, I felt covered somehow. Braver than usual, more myself than usual. And I knew I wasn’t alone.
Later that evening the doorbell rang, and it was my friend and her family. In her arms she was carrying something warm and wrapped in a dish towel. When she put her bundle on the kitchen counter and pulled back the cover, a heavenly aroma wafted into the room. It was a homemade pie. Sweet strawberries mingled with cinnamony apples. And it was still warm from the oven.
“I wanted to do something with my hands while I was praying for you,” she said.
I’ve had people tell me they were praying for me before, but it’s not every day that you can see the results of someone’s prayers—let alone taste them.
When I took the first mouth-watering bite, I thought, So this is what prayer tastes like. Sweet and tangy and baked to perfection inside a golden crust.
I pictured my friend rolling out the dough, asking God to smooth out the path before me. I imagined her slicing strawberries and peeling apples as she prayed for God to cut away the obstacles. I envisioned her scooping the flour and sugar, all the while requesting extra measures of wisdom and guidance.
As I licked the last few crumbs from my plate, I thought about what a brilliant idea a prayer pie is. If the thing you’re praying about utterly flops, your sorrows go down much easier à la mode. If things go well, what better way to celebrate than to toast with a forkful of pie? And either way, you will know that the hands that made it were the same hands that prayed you through.
So I guess that’s what prayer tastes like. A little like homemade pie. And a lot like love.