Pumpkins and Pillows

One of the pumpkins on the back porch met its fate last night. 

A noble fate it was, indeed. 

Amanda scrubbed it, cut its "lid" out, rubbed the outside with olive oil, filled it with a most delicious stew, put the lid back on, and cooked the whole thing in the oven.

Pumpkin flavored the stew, the exterior turned a perfect burnt-orange...

and, once we had eaten our fill of stew, we scraped out the cooked pumpkin meat.

I fear more of those cute porch-sitters will meet this destiny.

They are proud, I'm sure. I would be, if I was a pumpkin. But I am not. 

So I will eat them, and not the reverse.

Last week, busily crocheting before school, one of "my" girls  looked at me sideways from under her long lashes and said, "Becky, bet me I can't finish this pillow by Friday."

"OK, I bet you can't finish that pillow by Friday. What are we betting?"

She closed her eyes in rapture. "Banana pudding."

"Alright, but that means I'm bringing in pudding for the whole unit."

"No, Becky! Just mines."

"What if I brought yours in a pretty glass dish? Would that make it better?"

It must have, because she shrieked back the hall, "BECKY'S GOING TO MAKE US PUDDING!"

This was somewhat of a God-send, this opportunity to show her I really and truly do care about her. Teen years are difficult enough without being through all the chaos she has. She doesn't exactly try to please authority, if you know what I mean.

The morning I brought the pudding, she let out a characteristic shriek the moment she emerged from her room and saw me. "Close your eyes, Becky! Close your eyes!"

I opened my eyes to find the pillow she had finished in my hands. 

My astounded eyes met hers, all proud and a bit shy.

"Are you sure, girl? You made it!"

"I gave it to YOU."

I totally did not expect this. I think I managed to thank her, and then she helped me slice the bananas into the pudding while the other girls woke up. 

I'll treasure this. Always.

I gave her a thank-you card, telling her so...

...And she asked me if she could come with me to church. 

I think speechlessness is becoming my affliction.

If I can get the outing approved, I'm going to do just that.

I've wanted to love them well in the hope they'll see Jesus in me. It's just incredible when (despite my limits and flaws) that very thing happens. 

Pray for us, would you?