Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Begin - Being - Binge (08/21/25)
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TITLE: Loaves of Light | Previous Challenge Entry
By Corinne Smelker
08/28/25 -
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The bakery was a vibe—and evenings drew a crowd: coders grabbing artisanal loaves, freelancers on laptops, and a youth group from the nearby urban church sipping Americanos. Megan glided through, topping off brews and tossing quips. Showing up, crafting something real, and trusting God through life’s chaos kept her going.
Tonight, the energy crackled. Pastor James, a broad-shouldered ex-linebacker with a buzz cut and a theology degree, had pitched a fundraiser for the church’s outreach. “Megan, hear me out: a baking night. You teach, we bake, we sell the goods to fund the food truck for the homeless.” Megan hesitated, picturing her pristine kitchen in disarray. But James’s grit was persuasive, and she thought of Lena, a regular who’d lost her design job and was barely scraping by. “I’m in,” Megan said, already planning the playlist.
The baking night was controlled chaos. The bakery overflowed with churchgoers, hipsters, and curious walk-ins, all crowded around steel counters. Megan had prepped stations for matcha cookies and lavender honey cake. “It’s not about perfection,” she said, chuckling as a coder dropped his dough. “It’s about heart.”
Lena hovered at the back, measuring sugar with shaky hands. Megan sidled over, wiping her hands on her black apron. “You good, Lena? Ever done this before?”
Lena shook her head, eyes low. “Used to bake with my sister, but... it’s been a minute. Feels like a restart.” Megan caught the weight in her voice, the struggle of starting over. She handed Lena a spatula. “Mix it like you mean it. Every batch is a fresh start.”
The night turned into a binge of flour-fueled joy. The youth group turned icing into a TikTok war, while a barista named Sam spiked his cookies with espresso, shouting, “Caffeine’s my love language!” By the end, the counters were loaded with quirky but soulful treats. Megan saw Lena set down her lopsided cake, a spark of pride in her eyes.
The next day, the fundraiser took over a park, string lights glowing, and beats bumping. The crowd snapped up the goods, pushing the food truck fund over its goal. Lena manned the sales table, her usual edge softened as she bantered with buyers. James clapped Megan on the shoulder. “You’re a game-changer, Megan.”
As the event wrapped up, Megan and Lena cleaned up. “Last night,” Lena said, stacking trays, “it felt like... God’s telling me I’m not done yet.” Megan grinned, throat tight. “He’s got a way of using cake to make a point.”
Later, Megan sat in her apartment above the bakery, city lights pulsing below. She sipped coffee, thinking of Tom, the bakery, Lena’s spark. Life was messy, but each day was a chance to begin again, to be present, to share in the wild beauty of it all. She prayed softly, her heart alive like the neon sign downstairs. Tomorrow, she’d bake again. And that was enough.
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