We sat at Caribou Coffee. The one in White Bear Lake. Holding back the frustration of our day not going the way intended. When my dad said:
“It’s not about the pumpkin.”
I don’t know when the tradition had started. Maybe it was when I was ten. I remember my mom was in the hospital that year. My dad made my Halloween costume. A hobo. We went to the pumpkin patch.
And every year since then a tradition was built. My dad and I were the pumpkin getters. Lunch spent talking and dreaming was added to the adventure.
Through high school and college we looked forward to our time together. In my 20s with work and life, we fit it in. Somewhere along the way, that is what it was becoming. Fitting it in.
Until this day at Caribou. I was about 30. Somehow time had slipped and we were the day before Halloween. Just now scouring the pumpkin patches for our pumpkin.
It was cold. The first place. No pumpkins. The second place. A long drive to. Only pie pumpkins. The car had the rising tension you can feel, but are keeping at bay. We were about to head for our first grocery store pumpkin. My dad said, let’s stop for coffee.
We sat. We asked each other questions about our jobs. About life. My dad with whom conversation easily flowed. I could feel my heart making a U-turn from the frustration that had laid ahead. Back to laughter. Back to enjoying each other. Our 20 year pumpkin date.
That’s when he said:
“It’s not about the pumpkin. It has never been about the pumpkin. The pumpkin was our vehicle to have special time together.”
Tears came. I knew it was true. I also knew it was true that in the busyness of life I had made it about the pumpkin. Something to check off my to do list. Veering off course from it’s initial purpose.
My pumpkin story comes to my mind frequently. When I think of prayer and quiet time. Sometimes I treat them as something to check off my list. To say I’m doing this Christian thing the right way.
And when I think of my pumpkin, I remember, no. They are just vehicles to spend time with God. They are not an end into themselves.
They usher me into the presence of God. They are ways I can know him more intimately. And begin to have a snowball effect. The more I experience Him, the more I want Him. The more I want Him, the more I arrange my life to seek Him.
And so it was true after our Caribou pumpkin talk. We began to have intentional monthly lunches. In addition to all the times we already saw each others. These had purpose. To know each others hearts and dreams and disappointments.
The monthly lunches culminated in the yearly pumpkin search. Even when the time came when thousands of miles separated us. Lunches moved to letter writing. Picking out various topics for the month.
About seven years after our Caribou revelation, Rob and I had our third miscarriage. October 2004. My parents flew out to Seattle to be with us. Late at night we brought their bags into our house. Talked a bit and all headed to bed.
In the morning, I walked into our kitchen. There was a huge pumpkin on the counter.
My dad had picked out a pumpkin. Put it in his carry on. Brought it across the country. In his love for me.
What I of course couldn’t have known, was that it was our last pumpkin adventure. The next August my dad would pass away. Suddenly. Unexpectedly.
No more pumpkins. But what a legacy I have from him. Of relationships. Of love. Of parenting.
My son and I now carry on the tradition. This year, at age 5, he has become quite a discerning pumpkin picker.
When he was three, seems to be the first year he really comprehended the process of picking out a pumpkin.
That year was rainy. Very rainy. Which in a pumpkin patch means muddy. Very muddy.
We looked at several pumpkins. He picked out the muddiest. Asymmetrical. Beat up pumpkin.
I tried to steer him to some other outstanding pumpkins. But no. His heart was set. And I thought. It’s not about the pumpkin.
When we got in the car he said.”Mama we got the most beautiful pumpkin of all.” When I asked why he thought that, he replied “Because it was the dirtiest!”
Yes. Sometimes the dirtiest. Messiest. Is the most beautiful of all.
He gets it.
I’m participating with The Nester in 31 Days of Noticing Fall. This is Day 29.
You can find all 31 Dayers here. There are so many wonderful topics.
If you missed any days in the series, you can find my posts here.
Linking today with The Better Mom, Playdates with God Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday , On Your Heart Tuesday, Extraordinary Ordinary, Unwrapping His Promise and Soli Deo Gloria
I’m thinking I might need to cancel my RSS feed from you blog as I am now sitting in my office crying 🙂
Melanie, thank you for that story. Your dad was a special man and I wish I had the opportunity to know him better. I love hearing these stories because it helps set the bar for the kind of dad I want to be to my daughter (and sons too!).
We carved pumpkins last night! Boys vs. Girls. The neighbors judged the results. It wasn’t about the pumpkin either (although Karen may say differently since the neighbors picked the girls pumpkin as the winner) 🙂
Thanks for sharing this story
Thank you Ted. You are a wonderful, intentional dad to Kaitlyn. (and my nephews too)
Your engagement with her will spill over for her lifetime.
It is good to have a space for telling stories. Thank you for reading them (at the office!)
Melanie, I love this. You have a wonderful gift and thank you for sharing this. What wonderful memories you have of your sweet father. This is your best one!!
Nancy
Thank you Nancy! Your encouragement means a lot to me!
What a beautiful story. And you told it so well it brought tears to my eyes. I envy your special relationship with your Dad and the way you are carrying it on with your son. What a blessing you are. I am so glad I stopped by today to let you tug at my heart strings.
Vicky- Thank you! It is good to remember. I’m glad you stopped by.
Thank you for sharing this. I have tears streaming down my face and it was just the reminder I needed today. I have really enjoyed all of your 31 Days posts.
Julia- Thank you for sharing how it moved you. The 31 Days has been a great practice of writing discipline. And has been fun to see where God led.
I really like this, bless you.
Thank you Denise 🙂
Melanie,
How lovely to meet you. I am hopping over from Shanda’s blog hop, but your pumpkin image, and then the Caribou Coffee, and the mention of White Bear Lake drew me right in. As a daddy’s girl, I smiled tenderly through your story of your dad and it not being about the pumpkin, and of your story of him bringing a heavy pumpkin through carry on luggage! I was sad to hear of his death and your loss of him, and was moved by your ending. Thank you for this peek into your life, and the reminder that it is not about the pumpkin.
Warmly,
Jennifer Dougan
http://www.jenniferdougan.com
Jennifer
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment. I do miss my dad. And am so grateful for his imprint in my life, in our family’s life.
Glad to meet you!
What beautiful story weaving. And that you have this precious thread running through your life with both you father and son is beautiful indeed. I love your words here, your voice and heart sing a strong and lovely story, that is your life.
Elizabeth
Thank you for stopping by 🙂
You and your writing always encourage me to be a better writer, a better noticer, a better storyteller. (in a good way)
Thank you!
What a beautiful post. Such beautiful memories with your dad!
Michelle
http://normalchaosforamultitaskmom.blogspot.com/2012/10/let-there-be-light.html
Thank you Michelle!
I just went to your blog and remember being there before! Something about the 5 boys and 3 girls stood out to me 🙂
I appreciate your encouragement!
Oh, how I love this. What a precious story… I can see how you cherish this so deeply. I was totally drawn in and tears came to my eyes. What a special man your dad was. I related, too, because I lost my dad four years ago in August – and he was the one, like your dad, that would sit over coffee with me and we would dream, and he would remind me, in his own way, of what life is really about. Thank you so much for sharing this.
Amber (I somehow missed this comment earlier!)
Thank you so much. I am sorry about the loss of your dad. And am glad you had him in your life. Remembering stories is important, thanks for remembering with me.
This brought the tears for me too, friend. I can feel how you miss him in these words dripping with love. What a beautiful legacy.
Laura, thank you for your compassion. I sure do miss him. Miss my son not having met him. And so grateful for the legacy!
Thank you for encouraging,