When I was in elementary school, probably in the second grade, my class took a trip to the pumpkin patch. We loaded onto the big yellow school bus with the words “Timber School District” on the side in big black letters and slid our young bodies onto the smooth vinyl seats. I, like many of my classmates, was excited to be heading to the pumpkin patch as I had a fistful of money crammed into my “tough skin” jeans. It felt as though I had been given more than the usual field trip amount of spending money and I was ready to spend it.
I couldn’t take my time to check out the many rows of pumpkins. It’s not something that you can do at a leisurely pace as all the other kids are doing the same thing and they might find that perfect pumpkin before you…so, I had a sense of urgency to find the perfect orange orb.
It must have been my day as I came across not one, but two beauties. Plus, I had the cash to buy both and didn’t have to undergo the agonizing process of picking just one.
We loaded ourselves and our pumpkins back onto the bus and headed home. I felt so excited as to what faces I could carve and sat dreamily bouncing along on our journey back to the school yard.
It was after regular school hours when we returned and soon I found myself feeling like I was the only one left in the parking lot. I didn’t have anyone meeting me as I always walked to and from school. With great desire and determination, I picked up both pumpkins, one slung in each hand and began to walk home. It was at the end of the parking lot that I realized my desire had overcome my common sense. I wanted TWO pumpkins and my arms only could carry one.
Upon realizing this, I sat on the corner and began to cry. I had two glorious pumpkins that I had chosen out of thousands and now I had the dilemma of carting them six blocks home. What would I do? Roll them down the hill? Carry one, kick the other? Leave one behind (unthinkable!). With great determination and intermittent whimpering, I hauled the giant veggies home. It took me longer than I can remember having to stop frequently along the way. But I did it despite that hugely uncomfortable feeling of holding WAY more than you can carry.
My thought for the week is…are you still carrying around too many pumpkins? Is there something that you can let go of? Is it possible to ask ourselves before we commit…do I need all of this, or can I be more selective? Is my pattern set at always choosing to do (or strive, or eat, or sleep, or exercise, or complain, or…) too much?
Lighten the load. It’s freeing.
