It's Thanksgiving day as I write this. The dining table extends clear into the living room. We'll gather round it in a few hours, a collection of family and friends. They'll arrive any minute, expecting laughter, food and fellowship. We'll have that - and pumpkin too.
Most of our family likes pumpkins - the Preacher is the only holdout, as usual. Today pumpkins decorate the tablecloth, and in the hall a wooden scarecrow holds one close to his heart. My recipe cupboard holds a homemade community-contributed pumpkin cookbook, and once upon a time, I even made pumpkin pickles. We won't have those this year, but at least one pumpkin will join us for lunch. Our daughter has promised to contribute one of her famous cheesecakes - pumpkin this time.
In the gardens nearby, frost decorates the pumpkins that have escaped Thanksgiving tables, those waiting for Halloween. And there's a green one sitting on my back steps, waiting to ripen. When it does, I'll call the grandbeans over. We'll carve it into something cheeky, then eat the cut-out bits, cooked with brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon.
My neighbour is ahead of me - a congregation of pumpkins sits on her front steps. Their cheerful faces grin at the Preacher and I as we pass on our evening walk. I smile every time - it's impossible not to.
They remind me of something I saw a few weeks ago at a city Farmer's Market: row upon row of flaming orange miniature pumpkins, each one a different painted face. They stopped my rush, and made me laugh.
I didn't laugh, though, at the news article I read the other day. In a grocery store in Alymer, Quebec, a 57 year old man and his wife noticed a theft in process - two young men attempting to steal a pumpkin.
When the man told them to put it back, they put up a fight instead. In the melee the pumpkin-rescuer died, and the 19-year old is in custody. Two lives, one gone, one forever changed.
And all for the sake of a pumpkin.
As a rookie clergy couple, the Preacher and I attended our first conference for pastors. The speaker was Dr. Charles Strickland; a sage, humourous, and well-seasoned ministry leader. Still recovering from a heart attack he spoke with poignant earnestness about the importance of making wise decisions in life and ministry. And he cautioned us never to toss aside the eternal best for the sake of the temporary good.
Throughout the three decades since, whenever I've been tempted to risk something precious for a temporary passion, no matter how sweet, I've thought of his advice. I repeat it to myself, and as I do, I can almost hear my priorities clicking into place. Maybe it will assist you, too:
"Never jump off a bridge to rescue a hat."
