'Twas Hubris Killed the Cake

If I had a brain, there would be a picture of the cake as it lay there in its death. Split into thirds, and oozing over itself, straining through the cooling rack, and onto the counter. Alas, I did not capture its demise.

The backstory has two parts.
Part one: I was making a cake for a friend's birthday today. I was doing this before my Weight Watchers meeting at 7:15AM. I had it all figured out. The cake would be made, dishes done, kitchen cleaned--everything perfectimundo--before I left for WW.

Part two: Our Wednesday morning bible study is going through the book Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World. This past Wednesday's study invovled an inventory of the self, a sort of check to see how much of a Martha you may be. We were to read the given statements and see if they applied to our thoughts. Included was the statement, "There should not be any limits to what I can do."

Now, being me, and having been reared to believe I am capable of accomplishing anything in my sights, I had a little problem thinking that statement was really an issue for me. Because, you see, there actually shouldn't be any limits to what I can do. Oh yes, I know the author intended to sniff out those wacky Martha types (of which I have nearly fully recovered--I mean you oughtta just see some of the things I don't even mention as irritating these days!) But, really, there are those of us who are quite competent, amazing, and well, lots of other great adjectives that I can't think of right now!

(You can probably see what's coming. I know the hindsight is truly 20/20 for me.)

On my way to put the finished cake (dishes done, kitchen sparkling) into the fridge, the thought crossed my mind (I probably even smirked), "There really is no limit to what I can do. At that very moment a drop of creme filling hit the floor. (I didn't notice it at the time, but it was part of the evidence I later cleaned up.) With the next three steps, I simultaneously opened the fridge door, balanced the cake and began to place it on the shelf inside. And then it began. The cake cracked into beautiful--almost perfictimundo--thirds. The thirds began to slide off the top and onto my arm. I screamd. The children came running. "What's the matter, mom?!?"
"The cake is dying before my very eyes!!"

And that, my friends, is how hubris killed the cake.

UPDATE In case you are unfamiliar:

At the Home of Martha and Mary

38As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. 40But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"
41"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, 42but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

Luke 10:38-42 (New International Version)