Its Not About the Pumpkin {Day 7}

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.

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 years old. 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 we went- No pumpkins. The second place-  A long drive to discover only pie pumpkins left. 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 its 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.

But my pumpkin reminds me. These practices 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. 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.

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 I am left with a legacy. Of relationships. Of love. Of parenting.

My son and I carry on the pumpkin picking tradition. Saturday, October 5^th, marked on our calendar this year as the day. We woke up to rain. Not a hard rain. A rain that the weather radar said would pass by mid morning. It was a warm rain, a summer feeling one that says a thunderstorm is coming. Not even a cool fall rain.

The temperature was to hit 80 degrees. 80! That is not fall pumpkin picking weather. I should be putting on my favorite sweater and sipping hot apple cider. Maybe even wearing a hat. I thought about canceling, but a look at our calendar confirmed this was the best weekend. A bit grumpily I adjust the image in my mind of what this years adventure will be.

My husband loaded everyone in the car. I rounded up essentials in the house. He smiles as I get in the van. “We saw you pause as you came out of the garage, look up at the sky and sigh. Like you were telling yourself it is ok to be picking pumpkins in such weather.” I try to stay grumpy.

A few miles down the road it dawns on me. “Rob, it is ok isn’t it, that it is 80 degrees? It’s more than ok. I lost my focus. This is not about the weather. This is not about the pumpkin.”

The laughter on the inflatable slides. The thrill of going through a corn maze and picking apples. The grins on the tractor ride to the pumpkin patch. The sounds of a face painted vampire. The pleasure of the apples on our counter and pumpkins on our steps. All of it.

It is about so much more. That is where I want to live, where I want to notice the moments.

I’m participating with The Nester in 31 Days of Noticing the Moment. This is Day 7.

You can find all 31 Dayers here. There are so many wonderful topics.

If you miss any days in the series, you can find introductory and each days post here.

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Linking with Soli Deo Gloria and Tell His Story