Story of Heaven Sent Cupcakery

The Power of Prayer and the Miracle the followed.

More than two years ago God presented me with a miracle. Whenever God performs a miracle for one of his children you must show him praise by sharing it with your brothers and sisters. I did not. At least not on the scale that it deserved. It is not like I did not have the opportunity. In fact, I attended a large bible-based church that welcomed the testimony of its parishioners. But I took the cowards way out. I was much more like Moses than his brother Aaron. I do not do well in front of large crowds. When I went to Sunday service the week after the miracle occurred, I elected not to share it with the hundreds who were there. Nor when I went to mid-week service did, I elect to share it with the hundreds again who were in attendance. Instead, I waited until weekday morning prayer service and shared it with the fifty who were there. This failure to do right by God has laid heavy on my heart. I am doing now what God has wanted me to do, share this miracle with you. It is a true story and hopefully it will inspire you.

A couple of years ago our daughter called to say she was being laid off, that was the bad news; the good news was a friend of hers who worked at another company submitted her resume to the hiring manager and they were interested in speaking with her. Like they say, GOD does not close a door without opening a window.

I knew our daughter not only wanted but needed this job, so I decided to look to God in prayer. Not only did I decide to pray for our daughter but to fast as well. When it comes to prayer, fasting is like putting high octane fuel in your prayer tank. I then sought the privacy of my bedroom, aka, the War Room to conduct my praying. I sat on the side of the bed and emptied my mind to allow it to be filled with the spirit of the Lord. This was my way of clothing myself in metaphorical armor because to be a prayer warrior, I had to spiritually look the part. And even though I was praying to God, Satan would be listening, waiting and watching for the chance to test my faith.

I began praying, Dear Heavenly Father, as a descendant of the King of Kings, I pray today to you for your help. I pray not for myself but for my daughter. I ask that the power of the Holy Trinity, The Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit, be behind my prayer request. I ask, as a Christian with faith merely the size of a mustard seed, that my prayer will be heard. I am praying that whoever is in possession of my daughter’s resume keep it on top of the pile of all other candidates. I am praying her name remains in the minds of those who are to interview her. I am praying the hiring manager encourages whoever has the final word to choose my daughter for the position. In the name of my Lord God, along with Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, I pray to thee not for myself but for my daughter.

I pray those with the power to hire her realize she is the best candidate for the job.

I pray those with the power to hire her see her as an asset to this company.

I pray those with the power to hire see her potential.

As a descendent of the king of kings, I pray.

For seven days in my War Room, I prayed. I prayed this same prayer, never deviating in any way. And each day while I was in prayer, I felt a presence there. I hoped it was God, or Jesus, or the Holy Ghost or the Holy Trinity itself but something was there.

During that week, our daughter would call with updates, all of it was positive, zoom interviews, phone calls, talk of in-person interviews. Everything looked promising. My prayer vigil and fasting had begun on Monday and it was now Friday. It was also on Friday that our daughter received word that they were skipping in-person interviews and were going to decide by Monday on the position. The waiting had begun for our daughter, but I still had two days of prayer and fasting remaining. I did not pray any harder because that was not necessary. I simply completed what I started.

On Sunday, after I said the last pray of my vigil, my husband came into the room and sat next to me on the bed. He put his arm around my shoulder and told me that if our daughter gets the job, it is because of my prayers. Then he suggested we go out to eat, since my fasting was officially over. I agreed but asked for a couple of minutes to say an ending prayer, so he left the room to give my privacy. But it was not another prayer that I needed to say, what I needed to do was deal with the doubt my husband’s encouraging words had placed on my heart. As innocent as my husband words were, for some reason I began to wonder, if our daughter gets the job how will I know if it was my prayers that accomplished it or was it just coincidence.

And there it was ladies and gentlemen, Satan. He waited for the perfect moment to turn faith into doubt. That is why we call it a War Room. That is why you must be a prayer warrior. And that is why we wear metaphorical armor. But as heavily equipped as I was as a Christian; it did not take a lot for Satan to have me doubting God. With one innocent comment, Satan had turned me from a prayer warrior to a prayer worrier. I had allowed Satan to put a question mark where God already put a period.

I put on a brave face that evening when my husband took me out to eat. I did not want him to know how miserable I really felt. I did not want him to know that his simple words of encouragement had me questioning the power of prayer. I felt bad because I should not have felt the way I was feeling, but I did. So, instead I smile, talked, and ate my meal as if everything were okay.

Halfway through the meal, my husband received a call from a friend of ours named Ed. Our daughter worked for him when she first graduated from college up until he retired. She had listed him as a professional reference on her resume. We asked him to call us if anyone reached out to him. But it was eight o’clock on a Sunday evening, so I could not imagine that he was calling about our daughter. Because the restaurant was noisy, my husband left me at the table while he went to take the call.

About five minutes later my husband returned to our table.

“She got the job, honey. You did it.”

“What do you mean she got the job,” I asked stunned, “Did Ed tell you she got the job? How would he know?”

Having been a department manager as well as a business owner, I have given dozens of job references and never once has the caller confirmed or denied the status of the applicant they were inquiring about, never once, even when I asked. So, I am sure you can understand my confusion.

“Listen honey,” my husband went on to explain, “Ed said, after giving the reference he thought that was it. But this lady just blurted out without him asking that they were going to offer her the job. And then she went on to say,”

That she thought our daughter was the best candidate for the job.

That she was sure she would be a great asset to the company.

And that everyone who interviewed her thought she showed enormous potential.

I sat there with my mouth open, speechless.

“What’s wrong honey,” he asked, “she got the job.”

When I found my words again, I blurted out, “That was my prayer. That was my prayer. Almost word for word. That was my prayer.”

My husband was confused. He had no idea what my prayers had contained. And he did not know the doubt Satan had placed in my heart. Nor did he understand the tears that streamed from my eyes. Tears when I realized that God had not only answered my prayers, but he put back the period that Satan had tried to replace with a question mark. And God let me know on that Sunday evening that when it comes to prayer, there is no such thing as coincidence. And he did so by using my own words. How awesome is that? How awesome is God? How great a miracle was that?

We got to call our daughter that evening and congratulate her on her new job. She did not really believe us until the company called her the next day and offered it to her.

For years I have been attempting to write the story of Heaven Sent. Contrary to many beliefs, it’s not just a story about a woman, a dream and a bakery. It’s much more complex than that. The story of Heaven Sent CupCakery is about God and how God works through us.

So let me begin…..

Part One

Ten years ago my world fell apart. My marriage, my family, and my faith. It was all shattered. It didn’t happen in a day, or a week, or a year. But when it happened, it came tumbling down.

I knew of God, but I lived my life not knowing God on a personal level. Don’t get me wrong I was a good person, at least that’s how I saw myself, but I wasn’t a Godly person. And believe me there is a difference.

I was raised a Catholic but stopped going to church as an adult. I thought churches were full of hypocrites. Hypocrites like myself, who thought going to church made me a good Christian. If that was the case, then standing in a garage would make you a car. Granted it’s a far fetched analogy but I’m sure you get the point.

When I prayed, my prayers were just words I recited. They were memorized verses from my mind not spiritual devotions from my heart. When I needed something I prayed, when I wasn’t in need, well I didn’t. I guess you can say prayer was on an as-needed basis. And the Bible, never owned one, so I never read one. My salvation was based mainly on hope, not faith. It wasn’t until later that I realized that when you hope for something you are basically asking for the intervention of man but when you rely on faith you are relying on the intervention of God. Big difference!!!!

So, ten years ago, when I laid my head on my pillow that fateful night, I was completely lost, spiritually and emotionally. The pain had just gotten unbearable, totally all consuming. There was all darkness and no light in my life. I struggled for so long, so hard to try and lift myself from the abyss. I fought and fought until I had no fight left in me. I was done.

That night I managed to muster together the smallest bit of faith and even that was a struggle. But I did it and I prayed, this time from my heart. Ironically, I didn’t pray for strength. I didn’t pray for courage. I didn’t pray for understanding. I didn’t pray for guidance. I prayed for one thing. I prayed for an exit. I prayed for internal peace. I prayed for God to take me home. I prayed for death. One of the last thoughts that night was if God was indeed a merciful God, he would hear me and answer my prayer. My pain would finally end.

But God had other plans.

I fell into a deep sleep, and as I slept a voice spoke to me. The voice was strong and stern. It said, “Deborah, open up a cupcakery and call it Heaven Sent”. I know this sounds wildly unbelievable. Why in the world would God speak to me? If it was indeed God. And why a cupcake place. An Ark, maybe. An Altar, possibly. You would think that would be more biblical, more worthy of God’s attention. But a cupcake store, really? Still, I heard the voice. It wasn’t a dream. I was sure of it. After all, why would I dream of opening a bakery. I wasn’t a baker. I never watched baking shows. I never baked from scratch. For that matter I rarely ate sweets. So, I knew it couldn’t have been my idea, much less an unconscious thought or desire I had secretly been harboring. Now, if the voice had said, “Deborah, play the lottery,” then that I could understand because winning the lottery was always on my mind. But opening up a cupcake shop, no way.

I was so confused the next morning when I woke. Was it a dream? Did someone really speak to me? I told myself it had to be a dream. But I knew it hadn’t been. Someone had spoken to me last night. Was it an angel or God himself, I didn’t know? I knew what I heard. And something else was different. I was different. The same problems were still there, the same burdens weighed on me. Yet, somehow during the night my spirit had been lifted. Death was no longer my end-all.

I woke my husband and I told him what happened, at first, he just stared at me blankly. Then he said, “okay, let’s do it.” His reaction surprised me; he didn’t question me at all. Not about the dream, or the strange voice. He just said, “okay.” I don’t know if God laid a hand on his heart for him to believe me. Or my husband was just so relieved to see a shimmer of light in me again that he would go along with anything. Whatever the reason, I now had a purpose again. God didn’t take my life like I asked instead he resurrected it. I guess sometimes God has to allow you to be knocked down so low, that you’ll know for sure who it is lifting you back up.

Part Two

The Journey Begins

We bought supplies, equipment and cookbooks. Then I prayed, “God, if this is what you want me to do, I’m going to need some help.” And God answered. Soon I was a baking fool. I sent cupcakes down to my husband’s job for taste testing and they loved them. Next, we had to find a location for the business. We discussed a couple of locations but for some reason the Food Court in the Bowie Town Ctr. kept coming to mind. I don’t know why because I had only been to that Food Court once. But every time we discussed a site, the Food Court would somehow be interjected into the conversation. And every time I would find a reason to veto it. My heart was set on a standalone store with seating and where I could play Christian music. It was what I wanted and I wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

We found a store on Rte. 450 where a Verizon had previously been. We met with a contractor to get a build-out estimate. Then we worked up a business plan. Our next step was to secure financing, we desperately needed money. My husband and I met with a counselor at the Minority Business Office of Prince Georges County. We reviewed our proposal with him and met the criteria to have our application go before the Business Council. The Business Council consisted of area CEO’s and Bank Executives who would vote on whether or not to approve our proposal. The council was schedule to meet again in four days. So, we waited.

On the evening of the fourth day we received a call from the counselor, “our $100,000.00 loan request had been unanimously approved by the council.” He told us he would get back with us in a couple of days to tell us when to come in to sign the loan papers. We were ecstatic! The bakery was finally becoming a reality.

Several days passed, and we didn’t hear from our counselor. My husband decided to call him. The news wasn’t good. Even though we had been approved by the Council, the underwriters, who worked independently of the Council, had denied us. The counselor said he didn’t know why and that he was stunned. He told us that usually the underwriters go along with the Councils decision. My husband called the underwriters and they informed him that they didn’t believe a cupcake shop could succeed in the County. My husband wouldn’t give up, he called every county official he could reach to intervene on our behalf. They were all sympathetic, most tried to help by reaching out to the underwriters but they refused to budge. Their decision was final. We would not be getting the loan. It was a done deal.

Part Three

God, I hope you find this funny!

As you could well imagine I was devastated. Opening up the bakery gave me purpose. It distracted me from all the hurt and pain still festering below the surface. Now, I had to add disappointment to my emotionally fragile resume. I was so angry. I was angry at my husband for just being there. I was angry at myself for thinking we could pull this off but I was angry the most at God for taking away that tiny glimmer of light and thrusting me back into the darkness. What kind of God does that?

So, I punted the idea of opening a bakery. My husband suggested we revisit the Food Court. At least take a look at it. I refused. Whenever he brought up the bakery it would result in an argument. I just wanted to lull in my own pain. The Bible I recently bought; I threw in the trash. I turned my back on that mustard seed size faith that I’d slowly been cultivating. And I completely gave up on God.

Weeks went by, I functioned like a zombie. I was aimless. Nothing mattered. Until one night when I went down to the kitchen for a bottle of water. I didn’t turn on the lights, in the dark I just walked through the dining room to the kitchen. As I neared the kitchen, I thought I heard a voice behind me. It startled me. I turned quickly staring in the direction of the sound. No one was there. The word I thought I heard didn’t make sense to me. Was it my imagination? It had to be.

I continued walking toward the kitchen, the voice spoke again this time louder and clearer, it said what I thought I’d heard before. It was one single word, the voice said, “Obey.” I took the stairs two at a time, stumbling as I ran. I was scared as heck. I frantically woke my husband and told him what happened. He went downstairs to look around, no one was there. “I think maybe God’s trying to tell you something”, he said. I knew what he meant and I agreed. The next day we made arrangements to see an available space in the Food Court.

Part Four

That moment when God shows you who’s smarter.

We went to the Food Court and looked at the two spaces that were available. We chose the space next to the Dairy Queen. The rent was reasonable because the property manager was honest and told us that they were going to eventually close the Food Court but they didn’t know when, it could be one year or more. That was a downer. But we went ahead and signed a lease.

One thing we knew as soon as we looked at the space was that God was definitely smarter than us. The space had equipment we had no idea we needed. Such as a mop sink, floor drains, grease trap, triple sinks and the list went on and on. Neither myself nor my husband had worked in the food service industry, at least not since high school. Obviously, we hadn’t done our research.

Although I quit on God, God never quit on me. All along the way, every stupid, stubborn mistake I made; God used his spiritual eraser to correct it. He’d hardened the underwriter’s hearts so they wouldn’t give us the loan. In turn, we didn’t lose $65 thousand dollars paying a contractor for a bunch of useless cosmetic changes to the space. We didn’t sign a lease to a building we couldn’t use. And with no money, we couldn’t go out and purchase equipment and product for a store that would never pass inspection. God saved us from financial ruin.

If only I had been on a personal level with God, I could have saved myself a lot of grief. God kept telling me where the location needed to be. The Food Court, the Food Court, the message was plain and clear. I wouldn’t listen. Most of us who fail to have a personal relationship with God rarely do. Instead we listen to that dark angel who tells us what we want to hear. And then we either blame God for the negative results or we pray for him to fix the mess we’ve gotten ourselves in. We are so fortunate that our God is a God of patience. And on our best day, God is a trillion times smarter than us.

Part Five

A Cupcakery is Born

God had shown us the error of our ways. But disobeying God came with a penalty. We still needed money. A loan was now out of the question so we had no other choice but to borrow from our retirement. Financially, it hurt us with the penalty and taxes. If only I had listened to that voice.

There was minimal construction needed in the new place, just a temporary wall to separate the front area from the baking area. Everything else was minor cosmetic changes. We needed to buy some equipment and products, and pay for licenses. It still cost a pretty penny but after more than a month, we were done. We just needed to pass inspection.

The Health Inspection arrived first, she looked thoroughly around, testing everything before giving her approval. The Occupancy Inspector came later that morning. He walked in, hastily looked around, pointed out several things that needed to be repaired, and before rudely leaving, told me to call him when I had those items up to code.

I was disappointed to say the least. That afternoon my husband and I went about fixing the items the inspector pointed out. It was almost midnight when we finally went home. The following morning we called the Inspector and he agreed to come back out that afternoon. So, I went up to the shop and waited.

I was nervous but I didn’t want to pray. I didn’t want to ask God for another favor. I felt God had done enough for me. Instead I sat and worried. As if that made things so much easier. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was scared. I needed God. So, I prayed. I prayed to God to let us pass inspection. I prayed to God to soften the inspector’s heart. I prayed and I prayed.

Around 2:00pm the Inspector arrived. This time his demeanor was sooooo different. He was friendly and polite. He looked around at the repairs we made and then approved the inspection. It took every bit of ten minutes. Then out of the blue he asked me why I named the shop Heaven Sent. I told him the abbreviated version of the story. It was then he informed me that not only was he an inspector but he was also a pastor of a small church. He went on to tell me how God worked a miracle in his life. The inspector told me how he and his wife were barren for many years but continue to pray to God for a child. He was fifty-six and she was forty-eight. Even members of his church doubted God would answer their pray and bless them with a child. Then he pulled out pictures of two adorable baby girls. His wife had given birth to them eight months earlier. God had blessed them with twins. He was so proud that he gave me a picture of his daughters. And before he left the shop, he blessed it.

Coincidence, I think not. I prayed for the shop to pass inspection and it did. And God let me know it was no coincidence by sending a Pastor to do it. A Pastor with a miracle story of his own. The next day the shop opened but little did I know, God still had so much more in store for me.

Part Six

God knows when you need a blessing.

The first month being in business was rough. We hired some frontend help and a baking trainee. My husband worked a fulltime job and then came by the shop afterwards to help but the majority of the work fell to me. I worked from six o’clock in the morning until 10 o’clock at night Monday through Saturday. Sixteen hours a day, the hours were cruel. I didn’t complain. Every week the cupcakery got a little busier and busier. People were actually buying our cupcakes.

Even though the shop was doing well, the cracks in my emotional foundation began to show. I read that you should never let yourself get too tired, too hungry, or too stressed because the devil would use those weaknesses against you. It is during these times the devil knows your “God” is down and that you are vulnerable.

On one particular day everything was going wrong. I burned the cupcakes. A customer complained. A delivery was late. And the hits just kept on coming. I began feeling overwhelmed. I could feel the stress building in my body. As the tension grew, I became aware of all the hurt and pain that still resided within me. It was as if the devil was whispering to me. (And he was). He was like a bothersome gnat that stayed with me making me remember all the ugliness that had happened in my life. The more I swatted at that pesky evil insect, the more determined it got.

In the end, the devil won. I broke down in tears. I sat at one of the tables and cried. I called my husband and told him I couldn’t do this anymore. I told him the shop was too much. He talked to me while he drove to the shop trying to convince me everything was going to be alright. But his words fell on deaf ears.

I was still crying when he got to the shop. He wiped my tears and tried to calm me. It didn’t work. Then the young man who was working the front yelled to the back that a customer needed to see the manager. I turned away, there was no way I was seeing anyone. My husband went up front. Within minutes he came back and told me I needed to come to the front with him. I declined but he told me I had to. Reluctantly, I wiped my face and went with him.

Standing at the counter was a man, who introduced himself to me as a Pastor. He explained that he was walking past the Food Court when something suddenly told him that he had to go inside, that there was a bakery there that needed a blessing.

I looked at my husband in disbelief. I was stunned. The pastor held our hands and prayed with us. And before he left, he blessed our shop. He also told us that he didn’t know we were in the Food Court and would make it a point to come back some time with his family to try our cupcakes. (which he did) Then he left.

I had let myself get too tired, too stressed and too hungry which made me vulnerable to the devil. And he wasted no time doing what he does, preying on the weak. But again, God was there for me. I don’t know why. I definitely don’t feel I deserved it. However, I am starting to feel this bakery has a purpose, and it’s a lot more than just selling cupcakes.

Part Seven……coming soon