One of my mostest, favorist things about autumn is the pumpkins. It's the first thing I think of when someone asks me about this season. I love most everything about them. I love to buy a bunch and put them is various places in and around my house to decorate for the fall season. I love their color. I love the "thump" they make when you give 'em a good tap. I love all the cool shapes and sizes they come in. (My favorites, though, are the tall, skinny kind. Da hubby loves the short, fat, and round ones.) I love all the yummy stuff you can make with them. I love to shop for just the "perfect" one. But most of all, I ADORE the stems. I know it's kind of goofy, but to me a pumpkin without a good stem is just, well, a soon-to-be-pumpkin pie.
I am crazy (seriously, obsessed) about long, swirly, gnarled stems. The longer and loopier they are the better. Now, every year Da Hubby and I have made a tradition of heading out to a local pumpkin patch and letting the kids pick their own pumpkins out. I have genuinely tried not to rub my own preferences on my kids so they can get what they want. I guess, however, all of my crazy requirements and limitations I put on the pumpkin picking have worn off on Daylor and Perri because they always proudly bring me their cool pumpkins all inclusive of a very well pronounced stem.
A couple of years ago we took the kids out once again to the pumpkin fields. Perri and Daylor picked out perfectly symmetrical pumpkins with beautiful stems. (I am tearing up with pride just thinking about it.) Duglin, however, seemed to be having a hard time finding what he wanted. I watched him go from pumpkin to pumpkin looking at each one carefully and passing it over. I began to wonder what was wrong with a few he had passed that were crowned with the most perfect stems I had ever seen, but I stayed back wanting him to find "Duglin's" pumpkin.
Finally, he picked up one from all the way across the field and brought it to me with a big grin on his face. I looked at it and, truthfully, was confused at this choice. It was small, oddly shaped, and didn't have a stem AT ALL!!! I smiled at him and asked him why he had chosen that one when there were so many others to have, hoping to encourage and coerce him into picking another more appealing pumpkin. He just kept that Duglin grin on his face and said, "Mommy, I'm not perfect and God chose me. This pumpkin is not perfect and I chose it. Don't they all need to be loved?"
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