Chocolate Cake

My grandmother had just moved to the Woodbine community in Nashville. It was the early 1950s. A new baby girl, a 2-year-old boy, and her tall handsome husband were the new kids on a short friendly street. A red brick ranch house with a large yard- it was everything a home should be. There was even a cove carved into the hall wall for the telephone to sit. New to the area, far from her family and friends back home in her small town, my grandmother began her hunt for a local church family. They say in Nashville, that there is a church on every corner well, believe it, because there is! It happened that there was on the corner of her little street and so she decided to visit a lady’s class that was held on Wednesday mornings.


My grandma loved the Bible, she was a scholar and teacher and I don’t know what her expectations where as she entered this new corner church for the first time, but as a new mom, she was probably just wanting some quiet time of study with some good Christian ladies.

After the study, one of the ladies stood to make an announcement. She would be taking some food to a family in the area and wondered if anyone would like to contribute. My grandmother raised her hand and volunteered a chocolate cake that she had just made. “The only thing is,” she said, “my husband has already eaten one slice.” The lady that was making the announcement made my grandmother feel at ease at once. She said, “that’s alright, we will slice it up and put it on a platter, no one will ever know the difference…”

My grandmother had found her new church family and a new friend for life that day. All over a piece of chocolate cake


There are many “morals” to the story, but my take away is this: If you share your cake, you will make a friend.



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