I volunteered to work once a week at the ‘pumpkin patch’ – to raise money for kids for camp. Pumpkin patches aren’t really something you see in south Florida – we just import the pumpkins and pretend we live where its fall. Heck, we’ll even put on a plaid shirt and boots with our shorts when it’s still 88 outside just to make sure we are part of fall.
Its fun to watch the kids look for a pumpkin, the youngest ones pick up the first one they see, the more seasoned pickers (you know 5 year olds) they roam around a little longer. Seems like the boys always want the biggest ones and girls always want the ones with a curly cue dried up stalk or one that has bumps on it.
Years ago when my children were little we went on a field trip to the pumpkin patch. One little girl’s grandparents came with her. After carefully assessing the candidates she made her decision. Her grandmother asked are you sure this is the one, what makes you choose that one “Oh, grammy, this one just said to me: ‘Pick me’ “.
That’s how I feel when I go to the garden center. I’m quite sure each rose bush is broadcasting: ‘pick me’. I know that when it’s viola time of year all of the violas shout at me: ‘pick me’.
That’s how we are all our lives – when we’re young we hope to be picked to be on the team, when we’re adults we hope we are the ones picked for the job opening, we want to be picked as the one he/she will marry, we want to be picked as the winner of the grand prize – always hoping to be picked…
In Christ you don’t have to shout ‘pick me’ – life with Him is a gift he gladly hands your way, all you have to do is accept…
thoughts on love, family, wine and food
PLaY CReaTivEly WitH YoUr LiTtLe OnE
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