What if I can’t do it?
The year after my husband died, the kids were 6, 3 and 1. We had about 13 acres of land and I thought it would be fun to have a pumpkin patch. My father told me I couldn’t do it. “You can’t do that” were his exact words. A friend of mine farmed, so I asked her about growing pumpkins and she said that would be totally doable . So I bought a bag of pumpkin seeds.
My father-in-law graciously removed a few tree stumps with his backhoe from our pumpkin patch area. We planted the seeds in rows – it was a small patch – about a quarter acre. After a week or so, we went out to see how the seeds were coming along. The pumpkin plants had 2 wee leaves – like a whale tail. Kyle was about 3 ½ at the time, and he was thrilled! As we walked through our little patch, row by row, he exclaimed “oh there’s a pumpkin plant! And there’s another one! And another one!” He was completely lit up with excitement.
The prior year had been absolutely off the chart difficult. We had closed the deal on the house in January with plans to move in June. My oldest son turned 5 in February, my husband died in a car accident in March, the baby was born in May, and somehow we still moved in June.
By now my three kids and I had been in the new house about a year, and we were all getting used to the “new normal”. I thought it would be good to do something fun, so planting pumpkins was it. To see Kyle be so thrilled with all the plants absolutely warmed my heart. Even though my father told me I couldn’t do that, I did it anyway. And I was very glad. New life, something to look forward to that was positive instead of wave after wave of heartbreak and difficulty.
As the season wore on, the vines ran, flowers formed, and before we knew it there were pumpkins! Rows and rows of pumpkins! In addition to a new, fun, life giving project, it was also a purpose. It gave us something positive and constructive to do.
The previous owners of the house had left a couple of picnic tables and a large bolt of orange fabric. Perhaps they had a pumpkin patch at one time too. We covered the tables with the orange fabric, and my retired friend painted a giant white sign that said PUMPKINS, in orange. He also made a money box with a slot in the top and a padlock on the front. He screwed the money box to the picnic table. And we were in business! My father-in-law had given us a trailer to attach to the lawn tractor, so we drove that out to the pumpkin patch. The guys bounced around in the trailer with the pumpkins we harvested and then we drove out to the picnic table to display our fine harvest.
Greg was in kindergarten that year, and he went to school all day, every other day. On the school bus. When the bus arrived at the end of the day, his brothers and I met him at the end of the driveway with the key to the money box. Greg would open the money box and see how much money people had paid us for our pumpkins. Of course, there were pumpkins missing as they had been sold, so we needed to go back to the pumpkin patch with the tractor and trailer and harvest more pumpkins.
That was such a fun time, even in the midst of devastation. I’m so glad I decided to create the pumpkin patch, even though my father told me I couldn’t do it. Who knew that a grieving, broken family could be inspired and drawn together by a quarter acre of ground and a bag of pumpkin seeds.
I still love pumpkins. I even have a pumpkin sugar bowl in my kitchen. Every time I put sugar in my tea, I remember the pumpkin patch in those early years. The life, the growth, the excitement. My willingness to give it a try even though my father told me I couldn’t do it.
So the question becomes, not “what if I can’t do it”, but “what if I can?”
A few years ago, I bought myself a beautiful little necklace. It is designed to be something a father gives to his daughter, and it has a little note card with it. I bought it for myself because I love the message, even though that is something my father would never say to me. Just because he would never say that, doesn’t mean it isn’t true. The note card reads, “you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, smarter than you think and loved more than you know.”
I choose to believe the note card that came with the necklace. I choose to believe that yes, I can do it.
