The Case Of The Wandering Pumpkins

We have five pumpkins that have wanderlust.

This is not a metaphor for anything in life. We have these pumpkins left over from Halloween that we never got around to carving. They’re still healthy, not showing any signs of mold.

They don’t stay put.

We started with four, and I’m not quite sure how we got that many. The fifth one appeared one day, and nobody is owning its presence. Part of me wonders if multiplication happened on my porch in some odd pumpkin way.

We thought it fun to keep them through Thanksgiving. A reminder of that first Thanksgiving, though I’m not sure at all if pumpkins were present. A little decorative touch that I typically don’t do.

They don’t seem to stay put. I come out some mornings and they’ve moved. Scattered. At times appearing to be running away, other times pretending to hide in unexpected places.

Like the one that climbed a tree.

It’s becoming fun because Ryken, at five, came in one evening and whispered to me, “The pumpkins are moving.” Wide-eyed, he pointed to the now newly displaced pumpkins, shrugged his shoulders, and came in the house.

There are several explanations for the mobile pumpkins. Almost two-year-old Mason loves to roll them. He pushes them around like medicine balls. The challenge of the heavy doesn’t deter him. If anything, he doubles down and pushes harder.

The other culprit is Ethan, our oldest grand. He has a sense of humor that is quite dry and a sense of fun that is cerebral and quick. His ability to find new places and new ways for these pumpkins to “act” has been a source of delight for everyone.

It took all of us a long time to find the one that climbed the tree. There was one at the base of the three that appeared to have been the buddy to give him a boost up.

It’s ridiculously funny and fun.

Nothing a pumpkin could ever really do.

There are many times in life when we’re confronted with an impossible situation. Yet in our high-functioning society, where entrepreneurial vigor is esteemed and high-risk situations are valued, it’s easy to feel like a failure if a challenge isn’t accepted, if the opportunity isn’t taken.

We all have limitations.

I hate to admit I have limitations. I don’t want to admit I’m weak or needy.

I am both.

The difficulty in owning my weaknesses is a fear that I will disappoint others or won’t be accepted for who I am.

God has chosen to craft me with a skill and talent set that is uniquely me.

In His eyes, I am celebrated for all that I am.

I have definite limitations. I’ve failed at things I’ve wanted to do. But who I am isn’t defined but what I can’t do.

I’m defined by Who I belong to.

In God’s power, I can be the best person I can be. I have no need to compare myself to the success of others; to try to measure myself by another’s standards.

My worth is based on the impossibly perfect standard God has set forth and Jesus has satisfied for me.

More amazing than a traveling pumpkin.


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