The Portion of my Inheritance

For the past several years I have tried to grow my own pumpkin patch. I have tried everything from planting seeds to letting pumpkins decompose, trying different soils to different sun exposure. To no avail.

Finally, this past summer, from the seeds of decomposed pumpkins, it finally took. I had my very first pumpkin patch!

At first, one lone pumpkin survived the extreme Texas heat and I felt it only right to gift my first born pumpkin to my first born grand child. To her delight!  

 I figured if it survived the drought and heat, surely it would survive her endless dropping it on the floors and toting it along with her to her every destination.

Soon, the pumpkin patch grew wild, overtaking the garden and the blackberry bushes, but eventually it gave birth to a second pumpkin. As the heat began to give way to the cooler air pushing in, pumpkins began to pop out everywhere. Yes, I think I finally got this! My pumpkin patch was looking pretty good and I was so pleased with myself! I could finally justify the higher water bill because of my incessant watering.

But alas, after a few busy days that took my time and attention away from my pumpkins, something terrible went wrong! Little, tiny, yucky, slimy, green worms feasted on my treasures!!!!

I was alone when I found them. There was no one here to save my pumpkins, but me! I would have to be brave. So . . . I began picking up rocks and squishing those slimy green worms, and scraping them off the pumpkins, smashing them on the ground! Over and over again! Sadly, one was too far gone to be saved, so it went into the compost pile.

As for the rest, even though they were still green and covered with scars, they went into the house where they are proudly displayed for all to see.

I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing. John 15:5

When Autumn falls softly upon us, I rejoice. The long Texas summer generously bows out and autumn takes center stage; majestic, displaying it’s colorful splendor for all to see. The blistering heat surrenders to the cool air that almost gives sight to breath.

Pumpkins are gathered. The wood is stacked high. Darkness comes sooner now and I can hear the faint echo of a dog barking at dusk.

Smoke billows out into the blue-gray sky from the warm belly of a fireplace.

My soul is renewed and I feel a deeper sense of peace as the change settles on me.

And I know . . . . He did this just for me!

“The heavens declare the glory of God; And the firmament shows His handiwork. Day unto day utters speech, And night unto night reveals knowledge. There is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard.” Psalm 19:1-3

I think that it’s right to start this journey with one who held so much influence over my life: My grandmother, Lorrene Brown. Born in Ioina Michigan, in a house two doors down from the home she spent her entire life in. She indeed embodied a “gentle and quiet” spirit. She was constant, my rock. With her, I always knew I was loved. Her quiet way was soothing and reassuring. I cherish the memories I have of her. She knew hospitality. Her doors were never locked and all were welcome. She was always there to greet them, sitting at the table drinking her coffee. She rarely ever left her house, except near the end, she traveled the length of Michigan to Texas to see those of us who had moved further on.

As a child growing up I can not ever remember my grandma not drinking coffee. She drank coffee from the time she got up until she laid her head on her pillow at night. I often would fill her cup for her but I never once joined her, being a child and into my teen years, coffee held no appeal for me. But it was such a big part of her everyday life. I very vividly remember the colorful array of her coffee cups; orange, green and gold.

Several years ago I found two such cups at a antique store and was flooded with emotion and memories of my grandma. I purchased the cups, as a gift, for my mother, my grandma’s first born. Last Sunday my mother gave the gift back to me, but only the orange cup. The other one was intended for my sister. “Here,” she said, “Take this and have coffee with grandma, I had coffee with her this morning.”

And so . . . The next morning I sat down to have coffee with grandma for the very first time, even though she has been gone for over 30 years.

rather let it be he hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God. 1 Peter 3:4