Hundreds of pumpkins lying in field rows is quite a sight. I wondered why they were still there. Why had they not been collected and sent somewhere to be made into pies or some other pumpkiny thing? Then I remembered that all winter squashes are cold hardy. But I did wonder how long they would last lying on the soggy ground and would they last through a frost. Just how hardy are those pumpkins?
This led me to thoughts about my own hardiness. How much lying in a cold field can I endure? How much exposure to winter rain and mud can I take? Honestly, not much. I prefer dry and warm. But for a pumpkin, dry and warm means a shriveled fruit.
Lately, I find that my spiritual state feels dry, barren, empty, but warm. If I linger too long in this state, will I shrivel? Do I need a bit of cold to keep me fresh and invigorated? Admittedly, I have been in spiritually muddy places, and they are messy. Not at all pleasant. But my being in those sloppy places revealed the degree of my hardiness.
But being too long in one place is dangerous. If I lie too long in the damp cold, I will rot and disintegrate. I need a bit of dry warmth to keep me firm and viable. But too long in the dryness will eventually suck the moisture from me.
Here is where I need a mover—one who knows when it is time to pluck me from the field and place me in a new location. Thankfully, the Spirit is that mover, and I sense the movement in my own inner restlessness. That restlessness disturbs the comfort that would have me rot in the cold or shrivel in the warmth. Then I am gathered into a new spiritual location where my fruitfulness will be nourishing for myself and others.
So when will those pumpkins be plucked from the field? Apparently, it will be when the one who plucks decides that the time is right for gathering pumpkins and making pumpkin pies.
Day nineteen of the Thirty Days of Seeing
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